


The Race

by Athaia



Series: Planet of the Apes: Hunted [10]
Category: Planet of the Apes (TV)
Genre: Gen, Murder Mystery, Organized Crime, PTSD, Racing, Reboot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-04-22 19:48:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 92,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14315895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Athaia/pseuds/Athaia
Summary: In order to earn money, Galen sends Burke to the racetracks, while Zana stirs up a deadly enemy when she investigates the death of a human rights activist who had dug up a doping scandal at the tracks - an enemy who begins to target Burke...





	1. Chapter 1

„I still think this is a terrible idea, Galen.“

Zana pressed her feet against the footboard and stiffened as another wave of pain tore through her belly. „And it’s really not necessary. I feel much better.“ She hoped Galen wouldn’t hear the strain in her voice.

„The only terrible idea was to travel again so soon, in your condition,“ Galen muttered, not looking at her. They had finally reached the mountains, and the road was narrow and broke off into a steep incline at their left. Galen’s hands were gripping the reins as if he could prevent the wagon from sliding off the path by sheer force. „It’s just that Nelva didn’t leave us a choice.“

The mere mention of Urko’s second-in-command, left behind to hunt for them while the general had returned to the City to prepare some unknown, but certainly sinister mission, made Zana’s fur bristle. Nelva might not be as fanatical as his superior, but he was tenacious. She wasn’t sure if the concept of territories meant anything to him. Even though Cesarea’s influence officially ended at the foot of the Iron Mountains, there wasn’t exactly a mountain police force patrolling the informal border.

Reaching the mountains meant reaching safety - that had been the promise that had kept them going until now.

But she didn’t feel safe.

„He could still be after us,“ she argued. „And if we stay here for weeks, he’ll catch up with us, and-“

„Zana.“ Galen’s voice allowed no argument. „I’m not going to lose you, too.“

She had almost died during her surgery, and with the town doctor’s old fashioned anaesthesia, which had been nothing like the deep sleep Kira was granting her patients, that sensation of finally letting go, of sinking into a cold, numb darkness, had been nothing but a sweet release. Zana found herself reliving that experience more and more often, an idle fantasy that was oddly fascinating, perhaps because it contrasted so much with the hot pain raking through her gut day and night.

Galen was worried that the surgery wound had become inflamed. He didn’t say much, but his tense features made Zana sick with fear. Maybe her belly was already festering inside, and would pour forth a river of pus once opened. She did have discharge that looked and smelled... not right, but she hadn’t told anyone. She didn’t want to think about it.

If only the pain would abate! She had gotten good at schooling her face, breathing through the pain instead of tensing up and alerting the others, but this morning, she had been taken by surprise.

They had set up camp at the edge of a tiny village, and the first visitors had clustered at the edge of the trees before the sun was up. Galen was posing as Faro now, not selling Melvin’s delicacies anymore (for lack of recipes as well as ingredients), but leather wares that Alan was sewing, and offering Peet’s services of sharpening people’s knives, scissors, and other blades.

„Never thought I’d end up as a gypsy,“ Peet had muttered, but hadn’t explained the word. Alan had just snorted, and had asked him to sharpen his leather needle again.

To Zana’s surprise, the apes didn’t have any objections to a human handling their blades, and while they were waiting for Peet to freshen up their metalware, the farmers and woodcutters often wandered over to where ‘Faro’ had laid out his display of knife sheaths, tool belts, saddlebags, and other assorted leather items. Alan was a meticulous worker - and Zana had expected nothing less from him -, but the human also revealed a remarkable sense of aesthetics, and had begun to decorate his creations, which apparently made all the difference for their customers. With each stop, they drew more people, and their reputation seemed to precede them now, judging by the number of people at that early hour.

Too bad that her pain was worst in the morning.

Usually, Zana rose last, pretending to sleep in, when in truth she was just waiting for the pain to become bearable; and usually, the men just let her be, out of guilt or protectiveness. But today, Galen had stuck his head into the wagon and had asked her to come out and serve tea to the waiting apes, so that they wouldn’t get impatient, and start crowding them. „You know,“ he had murmured, careful not to let his words escape the interior of the wagon, „Peet is holding up well, all things considered, but he’s currently sharpening their scythe blades, and a, a nervous Peet and sharp blades is a combination I’d rather not try out.“

So Zana had crawled out of the wagon, and had made tea, and poured tea, and had tried to smile all the way through her ordeal; and she had almost finished her round, and would’ve been able to hunker down for the preparation of the second pot of tea in a moment...

But the pain sliced through her guts so fiercely that the pot dropped from her hand and she almost broke down. Strong arms caught her at the last moment, and then Galen was there and took her from the stunned farmer’s hands and carried her back into the wagon without a word. He laid her down onto her bedroll and vanished.

Voices sounded outside, Galen’s, and several she didn’t know - the farmers.

Then Galen came back. „There is a town in the next valley,“ he said. His voice was deceptively calm, but Zana knew him too well by now. „It’s about a day’s worth of travel. We’re breaking camp now, so that we’ll reach it before sunset. They have a very good doctor there. We’ll stay there until you’ve completely recovered this time, Nelva be damned.“

She hadn’t been able to say anything then, too busy with breathing through the pain. But now, feeling well enough to sit beside Galen on the passenger’s seat, she couldn’t stop fretting. „You’re exaggerating this, Galen, this... this episode earlier was an exception. I don’t usually have those cramps.“

„Fine,“ Galen said, still staring ahead. „Then the doctor will just examine you, and if he agrees with your diagnosis, we’ll be on our way. Nothing to worry about, if you’re right.“

Zana threw a hasty glance over her shoulder, into the wagon. Alan was sitting all the way back, as always; he was sewing yet another piece of leather together, head bowed over his work in deep concentration. Zana suspected he sought to put as much distance between her and him as possible, although he claimed that he needed the light that fell through the back opening of the wagon’s cover. Peet had crawled back under his blankets and was fast asleep.

„We’re just so recognizable with Alan’s color, and his limp,“ she whispered when she turned back to Galen. „You know I’ll never send him away, but we should stay away from towns, just like we’ve been doing all this time.“

„And you know I’ll never put a human’s wellbeing above yours,“ Galen said, and now his voice had taken on a steely undertone that told Zana she had lost the argument. Ever since they had been attacked in the human city, Galen reacted with stony implacability to everything remotely to do with humans. It had been a mistake to bring their humans into the argument, Zana realized. If Galen had been determined to take her to a doctor before, nothing short of the end of the world would keep him from doing so now.

She just hoped that this time, it wouldn’t be an _ape’s_ stubbornness that resulted in a catastrophe.

* * *

The town was lovely, Zana had to admit to herself as she stepped out of the doctor’s office. It was exactly the kind of town she had been dreaming of while they had been crawling through the vast marches of the Southern plain - the kind of town where they would settle down and start a new life. Just like in most villages, apes had adopted the human style of architecture, instead of the arboreal construction that purists like Urko insisted on-

Mothers, would she ever be able to enjoy a day in her life again without thinking about Urko?

Zana took a deep breath and forced herself to focus on the cool air, spiced by the scent of wood fires, on the milky yellow of the evening sky, as the setting sun backlighted the clouds that were crowding the horizon, and the feeling of gravel under the soles of her shoes, as she cautiously made her way across the street and towards the inn where they were currently lodging. It belonged to an elderly widow who usually hired out rooms for the woodworkers during the summer, and who had been delighted to have a source of income during fall.

Galen had to pay her up front, and had promptly sent out Alan to buy another batch of hides from the tanner. Currently, he was looking for a way to turn Peet’s skills into money, too.

At any other time, Galen’s unabashed use of the humans as working animals would have made her uncomfortable, despite admitting to its necessity. But ever since that day in the ruins, Zana felt strangely indifferent towards them, although she enjoyed grooming Peet. She found the repetitive movements soothing, the feeling of his sleek hair gliding through her fingers, and of equally smooth skin, warmed from the afternoon sun. Peet wasn’t enjoying those sessions, but Zana felt unable to care.

As if thinking about the humans had conjured him, Alan was suddenly standing in her way, the tang of tanning baths clinging to his clothes. He stopped cold when he saw her, apparently unsure of how to react.

„Have you been at the tanners’?“ Zana asked politely. She didn’t have the energy for Galen’s quiet, sustained fury.

Alan nodded, and fell into step with her. „The hides will be delivered tomorrow morning. But we still have some left, from Gal... Faro’s last purchase, so I don’t have to interrupt-“

„You don’t have to work from the moment you wake up until you go to sleep,“ Zana murmured. She didn’t find it difficult to adjust her speed to the human’s limp; Alan had been training his leg under Peet’s supervision since they had left Silam, and no longer needed a crutch, while the pain in her belly had been slowing her down in equal measure to his progress. They met somewhere in the middle; maybe it was Alan who was slowing down for her sake, and not the other way around. When they were back at the inn, she would lie down for a bit, maybe ask Alan to make her some tea...

„Now this is a sight you don’t see very often here! Figures that we need strangers to show us what simian decency looks like!“

Zana turned around with an uncertain smile. „Excuse me?“ The words hadn’t been unfriendly, but the tone had carried a challenge... against whom, she wasn’t sure yet.

A woman in a checkered skirt and cape had stepped out of the store behind them, and was now staring at Alan with a mixture of glee and outrage. Zana would’ve called her plump, but the force of the woman’s excitement made her appear more imposing than clumsy. She reminded Zana of Lora somewhat - the same coiled-up energy, but without the young woman’s naivete. The eyes of this Chimp were shrewd; they took in every detail of Alan’s appearance, as if she was memorizing them for a police sketch.

The woman gestured at him. „An ape keeping a crippled human? You don’t see _that_ around here! A bullet to the head, that’s what the poor beasts can expect when they tear a ligament. These monkeys don’t even consider the possibility of using a human for work other than running around like a scared chicken!“ She propped her hands on her hips and studied Alan, who had schooled his face into an expressionless mask, his gaze fixed on some invisible point behind her shoulder. „What _are_ you using him for?“

„Leatherwork,“ Zana said, feeling as if a cart had just run her over. The woman’s energy was vibrating around her like a thundercloud, ready to erupt at the slightest provocation. „He sews saddlebags, and purses... he decorates them, too. He creates beautiful things,“ she added, feeling the sudden urge to let the human know that she respected his work.

The woman nodded emphatically. _„That_ is an _excellent_ idea. I’m going to steal that for our charity. - I’m Felga.“ She bowed abruptly, as if introducing herself was a pesky formality that only took up precious time better spent with vigorous debate. „I’m the head of the local chapter of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Humans, founded by the esteemed Zorya in Chubla - that’s North of these mountains, in case you were wondering. Definitely will suggest introducing leatherwork for our humans in our next meeting.“

She circled Alan, but thankfully didn’t touch him. „My, but what a handsome boy. How long do you have him?“

„A few years,“ Zana lied, watching Alan’s face that was still perfectly calm, but slightly flushed with embarrassment now.

„Did you purchase him like that, or did it happen when you already had him?“ Felga wanted to know. Judging by her expression, she was about to either offer Alan a treat, or pat him like a horse, and Zana couldn’t decide which would be worse.

„No, it was a hunting accident,“ she used their usual story.

Felga turned abruptly to her, and Zana saw the tension leave Alan’s shoulders. „A hunting accident? Did you use him as a beater?“

Her face was open and her voice friendly, but something in her eyes put Zana on alert. There was a right and a wrong way to answer this question.

She decided for the truth. „No, we didn’t use him for hunting. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.“

Felga grimaced, and Zana cautiously released her breath. She had just passed the test. „Hunters,“ Felga said contemptuously. „If they’d at least shoot each other, instead of innocent animals! Poor thing! And so noble of you to keep him despite his impairment.“

„That reminds me, he can’t stand for such a long time, with his bad leg,“ Zana said, relieved to have found an excuse to at least give one of them a chance to escape. „Nait, why don’t you go ahead to the inn and wait for me there? I’ll catch up with you shortly.“ They were using fake names again; this time, the humans had insisted on choosing their own names.

Alan, remembering to play his part in public, ducked his head with a murmured „yes’m“ and limped off, maybe a little faster than usual. _You owe me, Alan,_ Zana thought wryly.

But he already knew that, and the impossibility of ever paying back his debt was what made him mute and clumsy around her. Zana closed her eyes for a moment, feeling tired and worn out. She wanted nothing more than to lay down and have a cup of tea.

„Oh, you’re staying for longer?“ Felga beamed. „That’s _excellent!_ My mother had mentioned that she had found guests for the fall, but I hadn’t had an opportunity to check the register yet.“

So their host was Felga’s mother. It figured - in such a small town, everyone was related to everyone else, or at least knew everyone for so long that it didn’t make a difference anymore. Zana smiled despite her weariness. „She’s a lovely woman. I feel right at home there.“

„She’s a warrior,“ Felga said, stiffening with pride. „Don’t let her sweet smile fool you. Some people here thought they could pull one over her. They all learned their lesson.“

„I... have no intention to defraud your mother,“ Zana said, unsure if Felga had just been boasting, or meant it as a warning.

„Oh no, sweetie, I wasn’t talking about _you.“_ Felga linked arms with her and began to wander down the street, and Zana, too startled to protest, went along. „Mom was full of praise for her guests, especially ‘that lovely lady’ - and if my mother calls someone a lady, they can’t be too bad. - Look, this is what I wanted to show you!“

They had stopped in front of a narrow building with a small crown glass window. „Our tea parlour,“ Felga said with obvious satisfaction. „It was our first project, and it’s our biggest success. Come on in, I’m inviting you!“ She pushed open the door, and Zana had no choice but to follow her inside.

Felga led her to a cozy alcove near the only window, more for the light than the view - the glass was thick and opaque, tinting the table with an olive hue. Felga lit the candle that sat on the table, and waved for the waiter. It was a human, Zana noticed.

Felga smiled, and ordered tea and cinnamon rolls for both of them. „I noticed your look,“ she said, when the waiter had vanished. „I bet you didn’t think a human could manage that task.“

„Oh, I have no doubts that humans can serve as waiters,“ Zana said, craning her neck to survey the other tables. The rest of the clientele seemed to consist solely of teenagers. „I was just amazed that apes would accept them at all.“

„It was a fight,“ Felga admitted. „We had to buy the building because nobody wanted to rent us a room, and as you can see, our guests are schoolchildren, but it’s a start. And they are our future - if they accept human waiters today, they’ll accept human concierges tomorrow. Or human artisans. And what’s more important, they’ll raise _their_ children to do the same. Whoever wants to shape the future, has to win over the youth.“

„If their parents are so against the very idea,“ Zana mused, then stopped when the human set a cup before her and poured her tea. „If they are so hostile towards your project,“ she continued when he had gone again, „how come they allow their sons and daughters to come here?“

„Oh, they don’t,“ Felga said dryly and took a sip of her tea. Zana followed her example. The tea had a lovely citrus aroma, with a strong balsamic note underneath. It was a perfect blend, and she decided to ask Felga if one could buy tea leaves for preparation at home... or on the road. But she suddenly felt completely disinclined to leave this town any time soon.

„There’s hardly a day when I’m _not_ stopped by some enraged parent in the street, and shouted at,“ Felga continued, and laughed. „I don’t mind - it keeps this project in people’s minds. It’s good advertisement. And teenagers love to rebel, so these little tantrums always win us new customers.“

„They also win you a lot of hostility,“ Zana remarked.

Felga smirked, and shrugged. „They do, but if I’d give in, I’d have to close this establishment, and close our manufactory, too. How would I feed and clothe our humans then? And pay back the loan for the shelter? What’s more important, how am I to educate people if I cater to their old prejudices? Everything new is painful at first. We’ve had at least three or four attempts to burn this house down, in the middle of town, can you imagine that?“ She shook her head.

Zana took another sip from her tea. A fire could spread to other houses in mere moments. Whoever had tried their hand at arson had either been oblivious or indifferent to the danger of burning down half of the town. „That sounds worse than just anger."

Felga scoffed. „I’m not surprised, though. The biggest thing around here are the races, and the stable owners are a bunch of murderous bastards, and I’m being polite here.“

Zana believed that in a heartbeat. She had the feeling that Felga could easily outdo Peet in a cussing contest. Still, the woman fascinated her. It was rare to find apes that cared enough about the plight of humans to speak up against it, let alone do anything about it, in the City. To find a fellow activist here, in the middle of nowhere, had been totally unexpected.

„You mentioned a manufactory,“ she said, and emptied her cup. „What’s that all about?“


	2. Chapter 2

When Galen returned to their rooms, Zana greeted him in a better mood than he had seen her for a long time.

And with a garishly colored piece of wood.

„Where did you get that?“ Galen asked, taken aback. The thing struck him as familiar, but he couldn’t remember where he had seen something like it before. He hoped she hadn’t paid too much of their scant money for it.

„It’s a gift, dear, don’t squint at me like that,“ Zana said and lifted the thing up for him to have a closer look.

Galen took an involuntary step back. „A, a gift? Who...“

„Morla’s daughter, Felga,“ Zana said and mercifully put the thing on the sideboard. „As a souvenir from our tour of her manufacture.“

Galen raised his brows. „You mean she produces these things en masse?“ He sat down at the table with a sigh and began to take off his shoes.

„Where’s Peet?“ Zana asked, as if she had only noticed his absence now. Galen pulled off his shoe with a little grunt.

„I found work for him with the local timber company,“ he said, and began to pull at the other shoe. „It’s hard work, but they pay good money. I’ll be able to pay our rent here, and for our food, without having to worry about being able to pay for your doctor’s appointments on top of it. What did the doctor say, anyway?“

„It’s dangerous work,“ Zana said, sounding slightly worried. „I heard of workers being crushed under falling trees...“

„He’ll get a thorough introduction, I insisted on that,“ Galen assured her. He leaned back in his chair and wiggled his toes. „Alan, make some tea, please.“

The human had been sitting in the far corner of the room, ostensibly focused on the leather in his lap. Now he put his work aside and rose without a word, or even looking at him. Sometimes, Galen wasn’t sure if Alan was trying to placate him with his behavior, or if he was giving him the silent treatment. It irritated him not to know.

„Oh, yes.“ Zana began to dig in her purse. „Try this one, it’s from Felga’s tea house, it’s delicious!“

„This Felga seems to be quite the entrepreneur,“ Galen remarked. „What else does she do, fix rooftops? Deliver the newspaper?“

„Actually, she does work for the newspaper,“ Zana said, and fixed him with a stern glare. „She writes the articles for the paper, though, she doesn’t deliver it.“

„So these other activities are some kind of hobby?“ Galen didn’t know what to make of this woman.

„No, they aren’t ‘some kind of hobby’.“ Now Zana was beginning to sound irritated. It occured to Galen that he should have stuck to making friendly, noncommittal noises instead of asking nosy questions.

„Felga and her friend Halda founded a charity some years back,“ Zana continued, rotating the wood piece a bit, so that its red-and-yellow-swirled side faced the room. „They take in humans who can’t run in the races anymore. They give them work, so that they have something meaningful to do in their lives. And, well, to pay the bills, too. Felga said they don’t get much in terms of donations, not enough to sustain the shelter, anyway.“

„So they make these... what are they?“ Alan dared to ask from his place at the stove. Galen glared at him, but Zana didn’t seem to mind.

„It’s a sculpture, Felga said. Something to decorate the room with.“

„It’s... striking,“ Alan said, and Galen snorted. That was probably the most diplomatic way to describe it.

„May I?“ Alan nodded towards the sculpture, and Zana waved at him to go ahead. He limped over to pick it up, and turned it in his hands. „It’s hollow,“ he murmured. „Is it meant for putting flowers in? But it’s wood, you can’t fill it with water...“

„A vase!“ Galen cried out, and slapped his hand against his forehead. „That’s why it was so familiar! My mother has the same... piece of, uh, art, and she always put dried flowers in it.“ Ann had always chosen an arrangement with lots of vines and cascading blossoms, to conceal most of the colored wood.

„They are selling most of it down South,“ Zana confirmed. „Felga was quite proud that they even have customers in the City.“

Alan was still turning the thing in his hands. „There’s an inscription on the bottom,“ he remarked. „True... simian... I don’t know that sign...“ He showed it to Zana.

„Genuine Simian Handcrafted Art,“ Zana read. Galen snorted again.

„With what you just told me, this thing is neither simian, nor handcrafted, nor art,“ he scoffed, „so I’m not sure you could call it ‘genuine’, either.“

„In any case, it’s serving a good and noble purpose,“ Zana said resolutely, and took it out of Alan’s hands. She placed it back on the sideboard with a thump.

„Maybe that’s why Ann bought it?“ Alan suggested. „To support a good cause.“

„Perhaps she would have, even, but she didn’t buy it herself,“ Galen said dryly. „It was a, a present from Melvin’s mother, so she couldn’t get rid of it. I’ve seen them being sold at the market, come to think of it - they are really cheap. Not that that’s the reason Vinia chose it,“ he added hastily. „I think she liked the, the _striking_ colors. Melvin’s family always had a faible for, uh, flashy things.“

„Scoff at it all you want,“ Zana said, and sat down at the table, as Alan began to pour the tea for both of them. „But Felga has invited me for a bit of shopping, and drinking tea, and showing me the town tomorrow, and I’m determined to go.“ She sniffed, and blew on her tea. „I’m getting cabin fever in this room.“

Galen flicked a glance at Alan’s shuttered face, and held up his hands. „You’ll hear no objections from me, Zana. I’ll keep my eyes and ears open for any signs of approaching trouble, and you just, just enjoy yourself.“ Mothers knew she needed a distraction.

Felga might have a terrible taste in art, but maybe she was just the right medicine for Zana.

* * *

Keeping his eyes and ears open for approaching danger meant he had to be in a place where news would hit the town first, Galen had decided; that this place was the town’s biggest pub wasn’t his fault- it was owed to the majority of apes being woodworkers, who claimed their right to get due compensation for their backbreaking work in form of cider, games, and friendly Chimp ladies who rewarded their jokes and clumsy compliments with smiles and cheeky ripostes of their own. It was a good thing he liked _keppa,_ and cider, Galen mused, or his mission would be a real strain.

He was careful to carry an assortment of Alan’s smaller leather objects with him while he circulated the bars, to stay in his role as Faro the traveling salesman, and he had managed to sell a few knife sheaths that way, and had even placed a few appointments with workers who wanted to look at his tool belts. Something to show for, in case Zana ever questioned his methods of keeping watch.

He was careful not to lose too much money at _keppa -_ he was a good player, so he had actually to be careful not to _win_ too often. The solution was to drink just enough cider that he couldn’t keep track of the changing values of the pieces so well anymore, and to stop playing once the losses had evened out his wins. His calculations had worked out so far; the other patrons saw him as a nice chap who wasn’t especially good at _keppa,_ or at holding his liquor, but who was selling pretty good leatherwares, and who didn’t bow out when it was his turn to buy a round. They continued to play _keppa_ against him, and shared all their gossip with him.

„I, I think this will be my last round,“ Galen said to the Chimp sitting across him at the table, and carefully stacked his _sembles_ at the side of the playing board. „My wife will have me sleep in the stable if I lose all my money to you.“

The other ape grunted, and began to sort his tokens. „Remind me why I never married. I’m getting all my fun with these nice ladies,“ he blew a kiss at the barmaid who was passing by their table; the woman winked at him and made a gesture as if pocketing the kiss. The Chimp chuckled and leaned back in his chair. „And when I’m done, I go home and nobody’s bitching at me when I open the door.“ He sniffed and nodded towards Galen. „Don’t forget to play, Faro- _tal.“_

Galen tried not to flinch at the familial address, and quickly placed his first token. „She’s not bitching at me... but I need to be able to pay for our food. We can’t all live by cider alone.“

„A good family man you are,“ the Chimp murmured, staring contemplatively at the yet empty playing board. He was the foreman of the working troupe Peet had been sorted into, and Galen was careful to meet him at regular intervals to keep informed about his human’s performance. He had insisted on one free day in a quartermoon for Peet, but the human was tight-lipped when he was at their inn, and was mostly spending his time with training Alan’s leg. Galen assumed he was trying to avoid Zana, who had developed a strange obsession with grooming him.

So far, the foreman had just shrugged and claimed that the human was following orders and doing its work like it was supposed to, nothing special to report. Galen was glad to hear that; he had been worried that Peet would get into fights with other humans, or even, Mothers forbid, with the ape overseers, or the guards. Ever since his capture, Peet hadn’t been the most stable human around apes.

„So, how’s my human doing, Marpo? Pulling its weight like it ought to?“ he asked casually.

The glint in the foreman’s eye made him sit up straighter. Had Peet gotten himself into trouble after all? _It had been too good to last..._

„Thought you’d never ask,“ Marpo growled, and Galen felt the last trace of alcohol evaporate from his brain. The Chimp leaned forward, and he involuntarily jerked back.

„You know what your human did?“ Marpo asked. „Raced _towards_ a falling tree, the fool, instead of away from it! Everyone else was getting out of the danger zone fast as they could, _your_ damn beast crashed into a cub before the trunk fell on it, saved its sorry ass. But damn, ‘twas a close call! I wouldn’t have wanted to be the one to pay you compensation, if it hadn’t made it.“ He shook his head and took a deep draw from his cider.

Galen grabbed his mug so hard that his fingers ached. If Peet had died, Zana would’ve... he didn’t want to imagine her reaction. „He... it is unharmed?“ he asked; he had to be sure.

Marpo set his mug down on the table with a thud, and nodded. „Cesar! I’ve never seen a human run so fast, and I’ve seen a lot of them in my life!“ He licked his lips and stared at Galen, as if he was weighing his next words. „I’ve been wondering ever since... and I must tell you, Faro, that I took the liberty to examine your beast.“

„E... examine?“ What in the white wastes had that Chimp done to Peet?

„Yeah. Hope you don’t mind. Racing is a hobby of mine, and I have a pretty good eye for humans with potential, if I say so myself. Can tell you from looking at their conformation if there’s promise or not. It’s the knees, you know?“

„The... the knees,“ Galen repeated.

„Yep.“ The ape took another draw from his mug, maybe to heighten the suspense. Galen felt like strangling him.

„Gotta be symmetrical. Humans with symmetrical knees are the fastest racers. There are other things to look for besides, but I don’t wanna bore you. Anyway, I had your human strip and had a good look, and I gotta tell you, you’re wasting its potential up there in the woods. As well as wasting your chance to earn good money with it.“

Galen fought the urge to rub his face in despair; he didn’t dare to ask how Peet had reacted to that order. „It’s not for sale.“

„Ah. Thought so.“ If Marpo was disappointed, he didn’t let it show. „So here’s my offer: I’ll train that human, and we’ll split the money it’ll win in the next race. Trust me, it _will_ make money,“ he added when he caught Galen’s stare. „Maybe it won’t make first place right away, but it will at least show - means it’ll finish third. I’m not taking on losers.“

„How much money are we talking about?“ Galen said slowly.

If he’d had doubts before, they vanished with the sum Marpo named. Galen leaned back in his seat and did some quick calculations.

They were forced to stay here for a while, Nelva be damned, until Zana’s condition significantly improved. That woman Felga also seemed to play a part in his fiancée’s recovery, so the longer they could stay, the better. But there was no question that they would have to leave one day, to reach the safety of the Northern territories beyond the mountains, and be finally out of Urko’s reach.

Then what would they do? They’d have to settle somewhere, build a new life for themselves, and for that, they needed money. Galen had no illusions that anyone would grant him a loan - he knew nobody north of the mountains who could vouch for him. He had tentatively planned on opening a veterinary practice, but even for that, he needed money. They couldn’t live in a wagon forever.

„Fine,“ he said, and ignored Marpo’s delighted grin. „You’ll train my human, we’ll split its prize money. But it’ll keep its free day once a quartermoon, and I’ll have the last say over its training workload. It will still have to work as a woodcutter, so if I see that you’re overstraining it...“

„You’re the owner, you have the last word,“ Marpo assured him. He held out his fist. „So it’s a deal?“

Galen carefully unfolded his hand from the cider tankard he had been gripping the whole time, and put his fist above Marpo’s.

„It’s a deal.“


	3. Chapter 3

The days were still long enough to break a human’s back while he was working for his simian masters, but the air had cooled enough that breathing didn’t feel like inhaling syrup anymore. Fall was coming, whatever ‘fall’ meant for the weather after all these centuries. Burke doubted that he’d see snow at this latitude, not even in the mountains; but the rains could make the streets so bad that they’d be stuck south of the mountains until next spring. The thought made his neck itch.

Or maybe it was the masses of apes surrounding him that did it. It was one thing to travel with Zana and Galen, no matter how much Galen had developed into an asshole lately... But these apes were strangers, and they were genuinely regarding him as an animal, and the way they moved, and talked, and glared at him reminded him too much of the guards in Urko’s prison.

Burke rubbed his face and tried to focus on the smell of soup wafting down the line of humans shuffling towards the cook, on the back of the man before him, the feel of the tin bowl in his other hand - anything but the guards ambling among his fellow slaves, chatting and laughing, and kicking at the humans who didn’t get out of their way quickly enough.

It didn’t help. His neck was prickling now, as if one of them would descend on him any moment-

„Put that bowl away, boy, your day ain’t over yet.“

Burke froze; he knew that voice. It belonged to the damn foreman, the one who had made him strip naked for no reason. Maybe he got off on it - Burke had heard some stories from the other workers... granted, not about this particular chimp...

He slowly turned around. _If the monkey tries anything funny, I’ll..._ He didn’t dare to finish the thought.

The chimp - Marpo, right? - clasped his shoulder and steered him towards the edge of the camp, and all of Burke’s spider senses flared up in alarm. He dug his heels in, but the ape effortlessly shoved him on.

„Where we goin’?“ Burke tore away from Marpo, and stumbled a few steps backward, keeping the ape in his sight. „I did all the work I had to do, I wanna eat now.“

„Your owner and I have a deal,“ Marpo said, and for a moment, Burke was too stunned to even think. Galen? Galen had made a deal with Marpo to, to...

„What deal?“ he asked when he had found his voice.

Marpo gave him a once over that turned Burke’s stomach; he fervently wished for his knife, but Galen had confiscated it before he left him at the camp. Damn monkey!

„You have a lot of potential, boy,“ Marpo drawled. „You’ll earn him a nice sum of money... and me, too.“ He smiled. „You can run, and I’ll make you run faster - fast enough to win the coming race, and the one after that, and who knows, maybe we’ll even nominate your for the big one next moon.“

He closed in to Burke and grabbed his upper arm to continue towards the treeline; this time, there’d be no tearing away from the ape’s grip, but Burke was too numb to put up any resistance.

He’d heard of the races; apparently, they were this world’s football, _the_ sports event everywhere in ape country, but especially in the mountains. According to what the other woodcutters had told him, apes were fucking _breeding_ humans especially for racing. Burke’s mind still reeled when he thought about the concept. Breeding. Like... like dogs. Or horses. Zana had mentioned breeders in passing, but somehow, it had never formed an image in his head, and he very much tried not to let one form now.

And now Galen had made a deal with another ape to make him run in those races, too, and win them money like a racehorse. He hadn’t even been asked - and these two monkeys would split the money, money _he’d_ win, money he’d cough out his lung for, _his_ money...

_That’s not how I play this game, buddy._

He’d have a word or two with Galen when he’d meet him again, on his next free day. But right now, Burke had no choice but to clench his teeth and obey.

They had stepped on the main track that led down into the town where said ape was currently enjoying a nice dinner. The thought of it made Burke’s stomach growl.

„Can’t let you run on a full stomach,“ Marpo chuckled. „You’d just paint the trees with pea soup.“ He turned Burke around so that they were facing uphill. „This is a nice training track, up and down and around the side of the mountain, in beautiful nature, good air... You’ll start running, and I’ll get an overview of your technique, or lack of it, and then I’ll work out a training plan for you. No need to get limbered up, your muscles are still warm from work.“

He finally let go of Burke’s arm and nodded up the path. „Go ahead, I’ll catch up with you in a moment.“ He turned away and ambled towards a young tree. A horse was hitched to a low branch; Burke had been too enraged, too busy brooding about Galen, to notice it until now.

Marpo unhooked the reins and mounted the horse, and understanding dawned on Burke. He’d run, with an ape on horseback hot on his heels. It would just be like in the good old days, before... before Urko’s goons had captured him.

They weren’t here now. That was then, and this was now.

But his feet were bolted to the ground, and he felt like throwing up, even without dinner.

They weren’t here now, nothing would happen if Marpo caught up with him. He wouldn’t knock him out and take him to Urko, he wouldn’t-

Marpo rode up to him and drew something from the saddle, something long and thin. „Are you a bit slow in the head today? We don’t have much light left, so we gotta make good use of our time.“ He leaned down to Burke. „Now you run, and I’ll be right behind you. And if you think of slacking off...“ The thing touched Burke’s neck, right below the jaw.

It was a riding crop.

„If you slack off,“ Marpo said, smiling, „I’ll be right here to spur you on.“

* * *

The scarf was lovely - a deep pine green, with yellow leaves and brown blobs that Zana assumed were meant to be nuts knitted in; it was light, but warm, made from a fuzzy material that was softer than wool. It would keep her warm, without feeling like a lead weight around her neck. Zana had no idea how cold it could get in the mountains, but even if the weather stayed as mild as it was now, she still wanted the scarf. It was so soft, and the color scheme reminded her...

... reminded her of that other scarf, emerald green and gold, cool silk between her fingers, and the rest of the scarves swaying in the hot breeze of noon, while Urko’s guards were prowling the market; Alan cowering at her feet, hidden from view, and she hastily throwing the scarf over her head, to make herself invisible...

Zana squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head as if she could shake off the memory like drops of water from her fur. But the energy still lingered - an echo, trembling through her, that fear, that drunk elation.

She had been so young then. So daring. So full of vigor and... and potential. Able to do anything, be anything.

She had still been whole.

_Don’t think about that. It’s pointless._

Zana opened her eyes with a tiny sigh, and smiled at the vendor. „How much do you want for this one?“

„Alta! What a _nice_ surprise!“

Felga’s voice was right behind her shoulder all of a sudden, a little too loud as always, and Zana’s heart made a little jump. She turned around with a wide smile. What an unexpected, welcome surprise. „Same! I wasn’t expecting you here today, I thought you had to work...“

„Oh, I did!“ Felga laughed and casually fingered the scarf Zana was holding. „Don’t let the old haggler trick you out of your money, sweetheart. That thing isn’t worth more than five _sembles,_ at most.“

Zana grimaced apologetically at the vendor and handed her the scarf. „It’ll be just a moment,“ she whispered. The Gorilla woman took it without a word and began to fold it, glaring at Felga all the time.

But Felga’s attention was riveted at Zana. „Racing season starts, which means I get _lots_ of new stories to write. Somehow, every season seems to offer a new level of depravity, but hey, at least I’ll never be out of material, you know?“ She smiled sweetly, and Zana began to feel uneasy; Felga’s stare didn’t match her smile. It was too intense, too... fixed at her face.

„That... sounds like a dilemma,“ she said diffidently, „you love your work, but you hate the races...“

„Oh. Yes. I hate a lot of things,“ Felga nodded. „Most of all I hate people who pretend to care about humans when they really, really don’t. That’s so _disappointing,_ you know? And also...“ she snapped her fingers, „so _damn aggravating.“_

Zana blinked. „I’m not sure I understand...“

Felga was still staring her down, her voice flat and controlled. She was about to explode in her face any moment now, Zana realized, but she hadn’t the faintest idea why.

„Really. You have no idea what I’m talking about, right? In a moment, you’re going to tell me that you urgently needed the money, that no humans are being harmed, and that it’s not worth terminating our friendship, _right?“_

Zana took a step back; Felga’s voice had risen with each word, and the last one had been shouted. From the corner of her eyes, Zana saw that vendors and customers alike had stopped their activities and were now silently watching the drama unfolding between the stalls.

„I’d like you to stop putting words in my mouth, Felga.“ She wished the ground would open up under her.

Instead, Felga made that step forward, and was in her face again. „But hey, maybe it’s my fault. Maybe I’m just too damn _trusting_ of other women! Maybe I should stick to men, because I never seem to be tempted to assume they’re anything else but assholes!“ Her booming voice seemed to reverberate from the wooden stalls around them.

For a moment, all that Zana could focus on was the dragging pain in her pelvis, stabbing upwards into her stomach, and the wave of nausea that accompanied it. She was ill, couldn’t Felga see that? She wasn’t up to this fight, she felt exhausted and shaky, and she didn’t even know what her friend was accusing her of. „I have no idea what you’re talking about,“ she said faintly.

 _„Don’t_ give me that line!“ Felga stabbed an accusing finger into Zana’s breastbone. „Don’t try to tell me that you had no idea that your husband sold your _other_ human, the one you’re _not_ parading around in town, to that brute Marpo for training! You’re making money of that poor beast, and you don’t give a flying _fuck_ if it breaks its neck, or ruptures its lungs, or gets a heart attack, as long as you can cash in the money! You’re _just_ like everyone else, I have no _idea_ how I could ever think otherwise!“

Zana closed her eyes for a moment. Peet. Of course Felga would have found out about Galen’s latest money-making scheme by now. And the worst thing was that she had used all of Felga’s words - sans the cussing - in her huge fight with him over it. She was completely on Felga’s side, but admitting that would mean that she’d also have to admit that Galen had gone through with this project, despite her disapproval.

„Dehni likes to run,“ she murmured, mortified. „And he’s mostly running outside the competition, we’re not really counting on-“

„Oh, spare me the bullshit!“ Felga spat. „This whole racing business is nothing but a money making machine! Money extracted from the suffering of innocent animals! Think of that when you cash in your prize, Alta - it’s blood money! I hope you _choke_ on it!“ She whirled around and stomped away; the crowd parted before her, as if people were afraid she’d snap at their throats.

Zana turned towards the vendor, mostly to avoid the stares of the bystanders. The woman had already wrapped the scarf in brown cotton. Zana cleared her throat. „Uhm, how much for...“

The Gorilla pressed the package into her hand. „It’s a free giveaway.“ She nodded in the direction of the retreating Felga. „Don’t mind her. She’s not right in the head.“

Zana took the package with a quick bow, even more embarrassed than before, and hurried back towards the inn, not daring to look up and meet the stares of the townspeople. She didn’t know what would be worse - amused looks, or pitying ones.

 _Not right in the head,_ she thought. _But I don’t want Peet to run, either._

_If Felga’s a madwoman, so am I._


	4. Chapter 4

Zana didn’t see Felga the next day, though she couldn’t say if the woman was just busy with work, or actively avoiding her. For her own part, Zana wasn’t exactly looking for Felga; she just happened to pass by the tea house, and then decided to take a long walk in the sun, to enjoy the mild weather, and the soft scarf around her shoulders.

Her feet took her to the shelter completely by accident.

For a long moment, Zana just stood under the trees and stared down at the low, long buildings that stretched silently in the morning sun. Felga had been in such a good mood when she had shown her around, praising random pieces of work, feeding treats to the humans... the humans had greeted her eagerly and cheerfully, and had looked healthy and well-fed.

Felga might be loud and a bit crude, but she seemed to honestly care for the humans. And now she thought that Zana, of all people, was nothing but an abusive, exploitative ape mistress. Just her luck to lose the only friendship she had ever been able to strike with another Chimp woman. Zana pressed her lips together. And typical to lose it because Galen did the one thing that would antagonize her!

Before she knew it, she was halfway down the hill and marching towards the shelter’s office. Felga might not be there - in fact, it was highly unlikely that she would be at the shelter at this time of the day - but Halda might be there, the shelter’s other leader, and Halda might know where to find her.

She _had_ to talk to Felga. It was one thing to admit defeat against Galen in front of the whole population of Sapan, but in private, it would be different. Zana would rather bear Felga’s contempt for being a meek housewife, than her contempt for being an animal abuser.

Her step faltered when she noticed two horses hitched to the gate of the shelter. She couldn’t imagine that the shelter got many visitors at all, let alone at this early hour...

Then she saw the sign of the town guard on the saddlecloth.

Zana swerved smoothly to the left and ambled along the fence, away from the gate. Whatever business the police had here, she had no inclination to find out. Keeping a healthy distance between herself and anyone wearing black had become an almost unconscious habit over the past months.

„Ma’am? Wait a moment!“

Zana froze. Grass rustled behind her as someone jogged closer. Her heart was suddenly in her throat again, that familiar, dreaded feeling of alarm rattling her bones.

She slowly turned around.

The officer had already caught up to her, a tall, lean Chimp with a shiny fur and even shinier boots. He was the most handsome man she had ever seen.

„Excuse me for hollering at you, ma’am,“ he gasped, and smiled down at her. He had an open, friendly face, and intelligent eyes. It would be hard to hide anything from them. Zana swallowed and forced a smile on her face.

„I didn’t realize you meant me,“ she lied. „I’m not usually apprehended by police when I’m out for a walk.“

He laughed. „No, I suppose not. But it’s rare that people stroll by the human shelter, especially at this time of the day.“

„Well, I’m not from around here,“ Zana said, relieved to be able to be truthful about that detail, at least. „It’s just such a nice morning, and I followed the cart track, and... and I ended up here...“ She stopped, unsure if she should claim that she hadn’t known what those buildings were or not. Sapan was a small town; it was entirely possible that this man knew about her and Felga. Mothers, it was unlikely he _didn’t_ know, after yesterday’s public altercation!

The officer was still smiling, but his gaze was piercing all of a sudden. „So you didn’t come out here on purpose?“

Zana blinked, genuinely confused for a moment. A tiny part of her was grateful for that reaction - it would hopefully help convince this guard that she had nothing to do with whatever was going on behind that fence. „No, I...“

Belatedly, it occurred to her that every normal person would’ve been more curious than secretive in this situation. „Did something happen at the shelter?“ She craned her neck to peer around the guard’s frame. The buildings lay as silent as before. Not a single human or ape in sight.

Zana frowned. Were the humans all still in their kennels? Shouldn’t they be working right now?

The officer was still staring at her. „You’re Alta, right? The wife of that traveling salesman?“

There was no use denying it. „You’ve met my husband? I hope he didn’t persuade you to buy a tool belt...“ she joked weakly.

The Chimp smiled politely, but the warmth didn’t reach his eyes this time. „No, I haven’t met him yet. Maybe I will... that depends on what you can tell me about last night.“

Zana gaped at him. „I... I’m not sure I understand, officer. What about last night?“

The guard inhaled sharply and stared into the distance for a moment. When he looked down at her again, his face was somber, with no trace of friendliness left. „Last night, someone killed one of the chair women of the human protection society. Where were you last night, Alta?“

Zana stared up at him, stunned.

Then her brain started working again with a jerk. „In my room. Killed? Mothers! Why would... who was killed? Halda? Felga?“ A terrible certainty gripped her. „Oh Mothers, it was Felga, wasn’t it?“ Her knees suddenly felt weak, and hot pain stabbed through her gut and made her bowl over. She sank into the grass.

„Ma’am? Are you alright?“ The guard’s hand was on her shoulder, and only the crippling pain kept her from shaking it off and bolting. Zana shook her head and gasped.

After a moment, the pain subsided, and she carefully drew some measured breaths. „I’m sorry,“ she said to the grass between her knees. „I’m... I’m not well lately... actually that is the reason for our stay... I’m here for treatment... with Doctor Aldo...“

The officer made a noncommittal sound, and Zana knew he would check that claim as soon as he and his colleague were finished here. „Can you walk?“

„I’ll be fine in a moment,“ Zana said weakly. „Why? Are you arresting me?“

„Should I?“ The guard said dryly. „Do you want to make a confession?“

Zana jerked her head up to meet his eyes. „I have nothing to confess,“ she said sharply. „I didn’t kill anyone.“

The Chimp regarded her evenly. „Then I won’t arrest you. I still need you at the watch for a witness statement. As it stands now, you were the last one to see the victim alive.“

Zana closed her eyes. So it had been Felga. She hadn’t seen Halda since that afternoon when Felga had shown her the manufactory, stuffing Halda’s children with sweets, and conspiratorially whispering to Zana to not give her away, because Halda was too damn proud to accept gifts even for her children, not to mention for herself.

It was hard to believe that this loud, boastful woman would never again prowl the streets, or yell at someone for mistreating a human, or smirk at her from across the table, slurping her tea. It was completely unreal. „She was... bigger than life,“ Zana murmured. „How can she be dead?“

The officer shrugged. „Happens to everyone at one point. If you’re not up for walking, I can let you sit behind me on my horse.“

Zana scrambled to her feet. „That’s not necessary, officer. I can walk just fine.“

„Suit yourself. We’ll make a nice, slow stroll back into town.“ The guard gallantly offered her his arm.

Zana ignored it and stumbled towards the cart track, one hand pressed at her abdomen.

With two long strides, the Chimp caught up to her. „Forgive my manners, ma’am. I’m Constable Rogan, and I’m leading the investigation concerning the death of Elapa Felga.“ He whipped out a small scroll and a pen. „You know what, we can have this interview on our way back, and you don’t have to accompany me to the watch house.“ The charming smile was back. „No need to give our upstanding citizens more fodder for gossip, after yesterday’s public performance. What was _that_ all about?“

Zana flicked him a sideways glance. Rogan was ambling alongside her, one thumb hooked in his belt, pen tucked behind his ear, studying the trees to both sides of the path as if they were the most interesting thing out here. Of course he knew exactly what had happened the day before; Zana suspected that he was taking notes of her responses, her body language - everything that would give him a basis on which to judge when she was lying, and when she was telling the truth.

Suddenly, she was very relieved that he had no idea what she was really hiding. She could afford to be completely honest with him in everything regarding poor Felga.

„We own two humans,“ she said, fighting down a pang of guilty conscience; both humans were adamant that they were nobody’s property. „My husband hired one of them out, for work as a woodcutter, and was approached by one of the overseers - apparently, our human has a talent for racing.“

„Ah,“ Rogan said. Zana looked up at him, unsure what to make of that remark, but he just nodded at her to continue.

She averted her gaze again, staring straight ahead, to where the first roofs of Sapan were peeking through the treetops. „My husband agreed to let the overseer train our human, and nominated him for... a race. I don’t know which one, I’m not that interested in racing. When Felga found out, she was livid.“

„Did she threaten you?“

Zana hesitated for a moment. Felga’s wrath had felt dangerous, overwhelming, and she had used her height and weight to invade Zana’s space and intimidate her...

„No,“ Zana said firmly, „she didn’t make any threats, except for wishing I’d choke on our human’s potential prize money, but that was... I didn’t take that literally.“

„That’s interesting,“ Rogan said slowly.

„Interesting in what way?“ Zana prodded, when he didn’t elaborate.

Rogan looked down at her from his considerable height with an apologetic smile. „Interesting in regards to how she died. I’m sorry, but I can’t fill you in on the details of an ongoing investigation.“

„I’m sorry, too,“ Zana said quietly. „I hadn’t known her for long, but I regarded her as my friend, even... even after that misunderstanding yesterday. I...“ She sighed. „I came here because I had hoped that maybe Halda could tell me where to find her, so that we could talk things over.“

„So you didn’t already seek her out yesterday? To... talk things over?“ Rogan’s eyes didn’t leave her face, and Zana felt her fur bristle at the implied accusation.

„I told you I was in my room,“ she said sharply. „I returned to the inn immediately after our... that incident at the market, and I didn’t leave it until an _atseht_ ago.“

Rogan nodded, unfazed by her indignation. „Can someone confirm that?“

Zana clenched her teeth and forced herself to inhale slowly through her nose. „My husband. Our other human. I assume you won’t accept their statements, since they are family, though.“

„It would be better if someone else could confirm your claim, too,“ Rogan admitted. „Mother Morla, for example.“

Zana shook her head. „She saw me leave this morning, but I didn’t see her yesterday, when I- Mothers, does she already know?“ She stared up at Rogan. The old innkeeper was Felga’s mother; Zana didn’t dare to imagine what the news must’ve done to the old woman.

Rogan sighed and rubbed his neck. „I had to tell her before I came out here, yes.“

„The poor woman,“ Zana murmured.

„Yeah,“ Rogan murmured back.

For a moment, they walked in companionable silence.

„Don’t you have _any_ idea who could’ve done such a thing?“ Zana wanted to know.

Rogan snorted. „I have dozens of suspects. Felga didn’t exactly have a talent for making friends.“

„She had... strong convictions,“ Zana said diplomatically.

Rogan laughed. „That’s one way to put it.“

Zana hesitated for a moment... but she had to be sure. „Am I still among your dirty dozen, officer?“

Rogan sighed, and peered down to her with a slight smile. „No, ma’am. I think it’s highly unlikely that you killed Felga.“ He stopped and nodded towards the inn. They had almost reached Zana’s lodgings, without her even noticing. She had been too distracted by this officer... by this interrogation.

„I don’t think Morla can bear my sight right now,“ Rogan said. He hesitated, and unconsciously tugged at his ammunition belt that was slung across his chest. „I might have more questions later,“ he added after a moment. „Can I find you here then?“

„I might be in town for a few hours,“ Zana replied, wondering about the man’s sudden nervousness. „I have medical appointments I must keep. Unless I’m under house arrest?“

„No, no,“ Rogan said hastily. „There’s no reason for that. I may send one of my officers over, just so you know. No need to be alarmed. Ma’am...“ He gave her a casual salute and strolled down main street without looking back.

Slowly, Zana pushed open the gate to the inn’s courtyard. She hoped she wouldn’t stumble upon Morla, and immediately felt bad for wishing such a thing. Morla needed a sympathetic ear now, a shoulder to cry on; and she couldn’t just assume that the woman would find either of that in one of the townspeople. Her daughter had made a lot of enemies for herself, and the resulting hostility probably extended to the whole family.

She was dead tired all of a sudden; her feet and arms felt like lead weights, and her eyes were drooping shut. _Mothers forgive me, but I just can’t be that person._ Zana didn’t think she could bear to witness the tears of another bereaved mother right now.

She just wanted to sleep now, and never wake up.

* * *

When Zana woke up, stripes of amber light were crossing her bedspread. The sun was already setting again; she had slept away the whole day.

She didn’t move. She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to peel away the cozy warmth of the bed, to face another evening of awkward silences and Galen’s furtive glances. She couldn’t decide what irritated her more: Alan’s expressionless mask, his slinking into corners as if he wasn’t really there, or Galen’s worried busyness - he was acting like a startled chicken.

When he was there, that was. Lately, she had only seen him at breakfast, grumpy and monosyllabic, smelling faintly of cider and pipe smoke. Zana suspected that he preferred the local pubs to her drab and tired company, and she... she couldn’t blame him for that, could she? She wasn’t really fun to be around anymore.

For some reason, the face of the officer from this morning appeared in her mind, and on the heels of that memory, the news of Felga’s death. It still didn’t feel real. Try as she might, Felga didn’t _feel_ dead. She had just stomped away in a fit of righteous fury, and now she was... somewhere else, and Zana had to find her to set things right. For a moment, Zana lay there, staring at the ceiling and trying to get her gut to feel the reality of what her head knew as a fact: she wouldn’t be able to set things right with Felga anymore. Felga wasn’t _anywhere_ anymore, except maybe the morgue.

Maybe she should... maybe she should go to the morgue, look at Felga, say her goodbyes. Maybe that would help her come to grips with the fact that her friend had died.

Felga _had_ been her friend - it didn’t matter that they had only known each other for a few days. They had shared the same love and concern for humans, the same hope and faith that one day, apes would see that these amazing creatures were closer to them than to all the other animals, and the same determination to do everything in their power to help that dream become a reality. Felga had been the first Chimp who didn’t know of Zana’s upbringing among Orangutans, and as a result, had been the first Chimp to accept her at face value. Zana had never known what a friendship with another Chimp girl would be like.

And she had barely tasted that friendship, and now it was gone, and she would never have a chance to explain to Felga...

Tears pricked at her eyes, and Zana swallowed heavily. Felga had died believing that she had betrayed her, that she was abusing her humans. Whoever had killed her had trapped Zana in that false assumption, like a fly trapped in amber, forever frozen in that false image, unable to clear her name.

A sudden urgency propelled her out of bed. _Who_ in this little town was so brutal, so _ruthless,_ to kill a woman over... over what? Felga had roused a lot of anger - Zana remembered the arson attempts on her tea house that Felga had told her about - but surely, speaking out against animal abuse wouldn’t be sufficient to drive someone to such, such _savagery?_

Zana peeled away the herbal poultice from her belly, while her mind went through possible candidates. The stable owners - Felga had called them ‘murderous bastards’. But surely she hadn’t meant that literally, right? It was just a figure of speech, to express her contempt. Or maybe they _were_ murderous, to their racing humans. Zana vaguely recalled mentions of heart attacks and broken bones in Felga’s rant.

A knock at her door tore her out of her frantic musings. She hastily threw a light house robe over her nightgown and went to open the door.

Morla stood in the corridor, eyes red and swollen from crying, and Zana’s eyes welled over in response. Before the old woman could say anything, Zana hugged her. „I’m so, so sorry, she whispered into Morla’s hair. „Your daughter was such a good friend, even in the short time I knew her.“

Morla breathed a deep sigh into Zana’s chest; then she patted her on the back, and withdrew from the embrace. When she looked up at Zana, her eyes shone with new tears, but her cheeks were dry. „There’s an officer in the guest room,“ she whispered, „’e says ‘e wants t’see you.“

Zana remembered the officer’s warning from earlier. „It’s alright, he told me he might need to speak to me again. Tell him I’ll be there in a moment - I need to change into something... more...“ She helplessly gestured at her fluffy robe, and Morla nodded her understanding.

When she came down the stairs, she saw that Rogan had indeed sent one of his men, a young, chubby officer who didn’t say a single word on the whole way from the inn to the...

... they passed the watch house, and Zana began to wonder where Rogan wanted to meet her. At the morgue? Did he plan to show her Felga’s body to see how she’d react? Did he still suspect her to be the murderer?

Instead, the guard led her to the edge of town, to a tiny, vine-covered tavern. He stomped up the two steps to the guest room and delivered her to one of the dark wooden tables, where he saluted wordlessly to Rogan and then left without looking back.

Zana stared from his retreating back to the smiling Rogan, who had risen from his seat as soon as she and her chaperone had entered the guestroom, and was now drawing out a chair for her.

„Don’t mind Junior,“ Rogan said with that disarming smile of his, „he can’t criticize a superior officer, so he expresses his disapproval with silence. Nobody can be as loudly silent as Junior.“

„I disapprove of this, too,“ Zana said, ignoring the offered chair. „Didn’t you tell me you didn’t want to provide the upstanding citizens of this town with more fodder for gossip?“

„Oh, don’t worry,“ Rogan smiled, „this is all highly official business. I’m still in uniform, after all. And I’d never dream of being disrespectful to a married woman.“ He gestured once again at the chair, and this time, Zana sat down.

_I’m not a married woman, though._

The thought made her nervous, although she didn’t understand why. To everyone else, Galen and she were husband and wife; Rogan had no reason to see her as anything else but a respectable matron. Only she knew that she was free to... to consider him, if she chose to do so-

 _What am I_ thinking _?_

She brushed her palms over the napkin to hide her embarrassment. „And are you always conducting your official business in a tavern, Constable Rogan? I wonder what the chief of police says about your expenses claims.“

Rogan took his seat across from her, and shook out his napkin. „I usually file them under special investigations. Jokes aside, I don’t always conduct my business here, but - well, if I have to discuss unpleasant matters like this case, at least the ambience should be pleasant, don’t you agree?“

„I thought you couldn’t discuss this case with me,“ Zana muttered. „You said so yourself.“

„I said I couldn’t discuss an ongoing investigation,“ Rogan corrected her. „But the case has been solved, and I thought that as her friend, you’d want to know. As far as I could tell, you were almost her only friend, apart from Halda.“

„And why isn’t Halda sitting with us at the table then?“ Zana asked pointedly.

Rogan smiled wryly. „She doesn’t like me very much. Besides, she has little kids she needs to take care of. She doesn’t have time for frivolities like roast venison, or wine.“

„This sounds as if you were celebrating Felga’s death,“ Zana murmured. That earned her a frown from Rogan.

„I’m celebrating the apprehension of her murderer,“ he said. „Order has been restored, and soon enough, justice will be served. I heard they are already selecting the trees for the gallows.“

Suddenly, Zana didn’t feel hungry anymore. „Who was it, then?“

A waiter appeared to pour them their wine, and Rogan waited until he had vanished again before he answered. „A local stable owner named Levar. He had been Felga’s special darling - she had always a scathing article or two in store for him, especially at the beginning of the racing season.“ He swirled the wine in its glass, and took an appreciative sniff.

„Apparently, Levar stormed the editorial office yesterday, and had some choice words to say about Felga,“ Rogan continued. „He made some threats against the newspaper, and against Felga, and had to be forcibly removed from the building.“

Zana slowly twirled the stem of her glass between her fingers. „You said yourself that Felga had a talent for making enemies. _She_ boasted to me that hardly a day went by when she wasn’t yelled at in the street by some enraged parent.“

Rogan swallowed his wine and carefully set the glass back on the table. „You’re right, of course - that alone wouldn’t have been proof of Levar’s guilt. It gave us a motive, but neither means nor opportunity.“ He flashed her a half-lidded smile, and Zana hastily suppressed some indecent thoughts. „But we found Felga’s body behind his kennels, and she had a camera with her. We think she was trying to expose some scandal, probably animal abuse, and he took her by surprise.“

„Why would he leave her body on his property?“ Zana wondered. „Surely that must make him suspicious - wouldn’t he try to move her elsewhere?“

Rogan sniffed, and took another sip from his glass. „Have you ever considered joining the force, Alta?“ he grinned. „You have the right mindset for this kind of work.“

„No, never,“ Zana said candidly. „So, what’s your theory?“

„I think he was interrupted by something or someone.“ Rogan shrugged. „And didn’t have the opportunity to come back and hide his tracks.“

„Interrupted by what?“ Zana tried to sound interested, not skeptical. This was... too neat.

„Patience, Alta. That’s what interrogation is for.“

For a moment, Zana’s thoughts flashed to Peet, and how Vanda and Urko had worn him down over weeks of interrogation, patiently, relentlessly. She suppressed a shudder. If this Levar had killed Felga, he didn’t deserve her sympathy.

„How did he do it?“ She didn’t really want to know.

„Strangulation,“ Rogan said tersely. „We found blue fabric in the fur at her throat that matched the color of his stable silks. We think he used a bandage that is normally used for taping the humans’ ankles.“

Zana’s hand involuntarily crept towards her own throat. „Merciful Mothers! That’s... that’s a terrible death.“ To be choked... to feel that string contract, tighter and tighter, like a rabbit in a snare, to claw and scratch and kick and-

_Stop! Stop! I need to, to-_

„Let’s talk about more pleasant things then, shall we?“

Rogan’s voice was like a lifeline, a dark and golden hum in the howling gale of Zana’s horror. She stared at his face, not daring to look anywhere else for fear of being pulled back into visions of Felga in her agony. She gripped the edge of the table as if she’d fall backwards into black icewater if she let go.

„Yes, talk to me, Rogan,“ she said. „Tell me nice things, and only nice things from now on.“


	5. Chapter 5

„We actually don’t open the morgue for the general public,“ Aldo grumbled. „Felga will have a very private funeral, too - girl made too many enemies who’d be sorely tempted to make a spectacle out of it. They’d probably defile the body while it’s still in there.“ The old physician led Zana around the back of his infirmary, and gestured at a hut that seemed to have sunken into the ground until only the roof poked out.

„Usually, I’d only allow family members - and the law, of course - to heat up the morgue with their bodies,“ he continued, and squinted at Zana. „But I already allowed Halda to see her, and Morla brought her neighbour... or she brought Morla, I should say... poor old girl couldn’t walk, she was so struck down by her grief... There you go.“ He pushed open the heavy, straw-studded door, and a breath of cold and moist air floated up and gently clung to Zana’s face.

The coolness reminded her of the underground tunnel Delia had shown her; the tunnel she and Galen had retreated to, believing it to be safe... that dark, cold, tunnel, full of claws, and...

„Move, girl, you’re letting the cold out!“

With a start, Zana realized that she was still hovering at the threshold of the morgue. With a murmured apology, she forced herself to descend the few steps down into the... the storage room.

It was even colder down there than the ghostly kiss of cold air at the top of the stairs had suggested, and Zana drew her scarf closer around herself, glad to have brought it along - after what Rogan had said about the cause of death, she had hesitated to wear anything around her neck at first. The walls were covered with heavy curtains; when Zana’s hand brushed against the folds, she found them wet. This room wasn’t just cooled by its underground construction, but also by evaporating water.

The only illumination came from a narrow skylight, although at second glance, a row of heavy wooden planks suggested that more windows could be opened for a better view... maybe for an autopsy. But if one just wanted to say goodbye, one opening was enough to find one’s way without letting too much cool air escape.

She was putting off the inevitable, Zana realized.

_ You wanted this, remember? You asked Rogan for permission, so you could say goodbye. _

Zana straightened, and slowly stepped towards the patch of light in the middle of the room, where a still form was lying on the only table.

„She looks so peaceful.“

_ „Merciful Mothers!“  _ Zana jumped back, her heart thumping painfully in her chest.

On the other side of the table, a shadow moved. „Oh, oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you!“

The voice. She recognized the voice, soft and sweet, reminding her of a little bird, just like the first time she had met Halda. Zana swallowed, and tried to breathe evenly. „I didn’t see you, Halda...“

The small shadow hurried around the table to take Zana’s hands, with the swift, light movements that completed the birdlike impression of the woman - one of those small, shy birds that were forever hiding in the underbrush, only to be heard, never seen, perfectly camouflaged in their brown-gray plumage.

„I’m so sorry,“ Halda repeated, her gaze searching Zana’s face. She had huge, dark eyes that were now swollen and red-rimmed from tears. „Did you come to say your farewell, too?“

„Yes,“ Zana stammered. „If I’d known you’re here, I would’ve come at a later time... I didn’t mean to intrude...“

Halda softly squeezed her hands. „No, no, you’re not intruding at all. I’m... I’m even glad you came... nobody else wanted to, except for her poor mother...“ She let go of Zana’s hands to wipe her scarf over her eyes. It was a sunny yellow, the only spot of color on her - a strange contrast not only to her brown robe, but to the whole somber setting of this room.

She moved aside, and Zana slowly stepped up to the table.

Halda had been right, she saw; Felga’s face wasn’t contorted in some horrible agony. It was... not peaceful, though. It was void of any expression. Try as she might, she couldn’t even pretend that Felga was sleeping - this vivacious, passionate woman would never have slept so silently. She would’ve... snored, and stolen the bedspread, and would’ve talked in her sleep...

Felga just looked utterly dead.

„It’s so... so horrible,“ Halda’s tearful voice floated out of the darkness. „I always warned her not to be so, so... I always said to her, ‘one day,’ I said, ‘one day you’ll push someone too far.’ But she just laughed and said, ‘pushing people is what I get paid for, sweetie.’“ The words were followed by a wet sniff, and Zana absently offered her a handkerchief.

„Well, someone pushed back,“ she murmured.

„If only she had been less quarrelsome,“ Halda lamented. „Why did she have to attack the stable owners like that, every year? We had already made such great progress with the human shelter, and human protection laws, why couldn’t she have left it at that? Why couldn’t she have been less stubborn, less...“

“... less Felga?“ Zana interjected.

For a moment, Halda stared at her with big eyes. „You’re right,“ she whispered. „I shouldn’t talk about her like that. We are what we are, right? We have no choice. And with everyone being what they are around here, this was... inevitable.“

„No, it wasn’t!“ Zana protested. „If it was, we wouldn’t need laws, or courts, or... or punishment. This was a heinous act, Halda, and the murderer can’t excuse himself like that.“

She turned back towards the table and gently pulled the sheet up until it covered Felga’s slack face. She couldn’t bear to look at it any longer.  _ I’m so sorry it had to end like this for you, Felga. If your spirit is still around somewhere, I swear I didn’t want Peet to run. I love our humans, I’m not an animal abuser. Please believe me. _

„I’m just glad they already arrested him,“ she murmured. „At least Felga can move on to the Mothers in peace now.“

To her surprise, Halda started to sob.

„But it wasn’t him!“ she cried. „It can’t have been him!“ She buried her face in her hands, and stumbled up the stairs.

For a moment, Zana was frozen to the spot; then she ran after her.

„What do you mean, it wasn’t him?“ she gasped, when she had caught up with Halda. She grabbed the woman’s sleeve and forced her to stop. She had chased after her almost until Halda had reached main street again, and Zana’s gut protested against the sudden run with stabs of hot pain.

Halda wiped her scarf over her face and gestured wildly with her other arm. Her eyes were glinting slits, almost swollen shut from repeated bouts of crying. „It wasn’t Levar! The police are wrong! It wasn’t him!“

Zana frowned. „But they found her behind Levar’s kennels, with one of his humans’ taping bandages around her neck.“

For a moment, Halda just stared at her, mouth formed into a silent ‘o’, and Zana cursed herself for having given the poor woman the same horrific image that had reeled her the previous evening, when she had been on that impromptu dinner with Rogan.

„I mean,“ she said hastily, „the police know what they’re doing, and the evidence against Levar is damning.“

„But why would he have left her lying there?“ Halda asked in a thick voice. „Damning him? He was set up! He didn’t kill her!“

„Why are you so sure?“ Zana asked, wondering if Halda maybe had a secret crush on the man. „He and Felga were arch enemies, from what I’ve heard.“

Halda threw a hasty glance over her shoulder and stepped closer. „That was just a ruse!“ she whispered. „For the townspeople! Felga... Felga told me the truth, because she knew she could trust me - we’ve been best friends since elementary school.“ She stepped even closer, and breathed into Zana’s ear: „Felga and Levar were secretly engaged. They loved each other! Levar would  _ never _ have killed Felga!“

Zana jerked back to stare at Halda. Halda nodded vigorously.

An animal rights activist and a stable owner. Zana could see why Felga hadn’t been eager to spread the news. „She was sleeping with the enemy,“ she said slowly.

Halda shrugged nervously. „I don’t know if they were already... how far their relationship had... developed. But all those articles, and Levar throwing a tantrum and threatening to sue her boss - that was all just make-believe. So that nobody would suspect anything.“

„Have you told Rogan?“ Zana said, still stunned. She began to slowly walk towards the market place - she didn’t want to rouse attention by standing in the middle of the street, whispering with a tearful, disheveled woman.

Halda caught up with her after a moment. „Of course I have! Before I even went to visit poor Felga, but he didn’t believe me! He said, even if it was true, it wouldn’t mean that Levar hadn’t killed her, only that he might have a second motive on top of the first one - jealousy, hurt pride, se... sexual frustration... I told him that he was probably the best judge of  _ that,“  _ she concluded, visibly satisfied with her saucy comeback. Zana remembered what Rogan had said about Halda’s attitude towards him.

„He might be right about that,“ she murmured, but her own doubts about Levar’s guilt had increased tenfold.

„He’s not!“ Halda said with absolute certainty. „I hate what Levar does, but I can’t stand the thought that he’ll hang for killing Felga when he didn’t do it, and the real murderer stands in the crowd and cheers along with everyone else!“

Her last words sent a chill down Zana’s back. It was true - if Levar hadn’t killed Felga, someone else was prowling the streets of Sapan right at this moment, secure in the knowledge that an innocent man would hang for their crime. They’d be free to sleep soundly, enjoy their meals, and plan their next step...

Their next step?

As long as they didn’t know the murderer, they didn’t know their motive. They didn’t know... they didn’t know if they would be content with killing only one half of the human protection society’s leadership.

Halda might be in danger, too.

Zana looked down at the petite woman walking beside her, dabbing at her eyes with that silly yellow scarf, and decided that she wouldn’t share that last, disturbing thought with her. There was no need to frighten her on top of her grief.

„You know, Halda,“ she said instead, „you’re absolutely right. It’s unacceptable to stand by and watch how an innocent man is hanged. We need to find the real culprit.“

Halda gaped at her. „But... how?“

Zana stared straight ahead, oblivious to the bustle of the market before her. All she could see was Felga’s dead face. „I have no idea,“ she murmured.

„But that’s no reason not to try.“

* * *

„Okay,“ Burke said, „slow down. This isn’t calisthenics, Al. It’s about control.“

Virdon let his hands sink and straightened. „I thought I  _ was _ doing it slowly.“ But his heart was beating rapidly, as if he had run for miles. And his leg...

... his leg felt actually better than it had in a long time. Warm, and tingling, but not in that electric way that heralded a new flash of lightning pain.

Burke shook his head. He was holding his stance, legs spread, one of them slightly bent, and his torso slightly rotated. „You’re using your momentum to propel you through the motion,“ he said. „You’re evading the pain. And you’re forgetting to breathe into your lower dan tien, too.“

„My lower what?“

Burke sighed, and straightened, too, apparently realizing that Virdon wouldn’t continue with the exercise anymore. Virdon felt a pang of guilt, but suppressed it - they had been at this for over an hour, by his estimation, and he had been exercising every day.

But apparently, he had been doing it wrong.

„Into your belly,“ Burke explained patiently, „way, way down - into your pelvis. Where the pain is, y’know? You want to open it up, so that the chi can move freely.“

„I’d never have guessed that you’re into Chinese mysticism,“ Virdon muttered, and sat down at the steps to the inn with a grunt. They had been allowed to use the garden for their sessions, and Burke insisted on getting him out there even when it rained. Thankfully, it wasn’t raining today.

„It’s not mysticism,“ Burke growled. „Jus’ their terms for things us Westerners hadn’t bothered to discover on our own. So it’s just right I use ‘em.“

Virdon held up his hands. „I meant no disrespect, I just... you didn’t strike me as someone who’d have the patience for something so slow.“

Burke just shrugged, and sat down beside him. Virdon flicked him a sideways glance. His friend had been unusually silent today. Virdon thought he might know the reason... but how to break the subject?

„How’s work up there?“ he asked casually.

Burke didn’t look at him. He stared across the garden, as if the hedge at the other end was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. The leaves were beginning to change color - just a slight paling of green, a hint of yellow. „The usual.“

Virdon took a long draw from his water flask.

„How’s the training?“ he asked, after he had put down the flask.

Burke heaved a heavy sigh, but said nothing.

„He should’ve asked you,“ Virdon muttered after a long silence.

„Yeah.“ Burke sniffed, and reached for the water flask. „But he didn’t. An’ he doesn’t have to, not here.“

„So what are you going to do?“

Burke shrugged and put the flask to his lips. „Run,“ he said, and drank.

Virdon didn’t believe him for a second. It just wasn’t like Burke to yield without a fight.

Burke put the flask down and caught his stare. „What? You’re looking at me as if I had a choice there.“

„Okay, Pete.“ Virdon held up his hands in defeat. „I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you’re really up to.“

Burke snorted. „Help me with what, exactly? I’m already getting all the help from Marpo.“ Virdon saw a muscle jump in his jaw.

„If he’s harassing you, you should tell-“

„Galen?“ Burke interrupted him. „Oh yeah, that’ll go over well with the master, me complaining about the monkey who’s set to make me a winner, so the two gents can cash in the money!“ He jumped up and took two long steps into the garden, before he spun around to face Virdon.

„That’s  _ my _ money they’ll share!“ he said heatedly.  _ „Mine! I’m  _ the one tearing my lungs out for the fucking monkeys’ entertainment here!“

„I’m on your side with this, Pete, you know that.“

„I’m not gonna win them anything,“ Burke continued, as if he hadn’t heard him. „I’m gonna finish last. Fucking asshole, thinks he really is my master...“

„Pete, calm down.“ Burke was trembling with rage, clenching his fists, his jaw. Virdon slowly came to his feet. „Have you even talked with Galen about the money?“

Burke shook his head. „Haven’t seen him yet.“

Virdon breathed a tiny sigh of relief.

„I can talk with him,“ he offered. „That’ll reduce the risk of someone getting strangled in the process...“

Burke stopped his pacing and shook his head. „He’s an ape. And an ape can tell a human anything, doesn’t mean shit.“ He sounded bitter. Neither of them had expected to ever extend that sentiment to Galen. 

_ We’ve come far, haven’t we? _

„If I can get him to agree to give you a share of the money, he’ll keep his word,“ Virdon insisted. „He’s nurturing his grudge, because he doesn’t know how to deal with Zana’s... condition, and we’re convenient targets, but... but he’s a decent man... ape. He won’t trick you out of your money, Pete.“

Burke snorted. „Ya think?“

Virdon sighed. „Look at it this way: if you win, he’ll nominate you for another race - more money to win. If he’d refuse to pay you after that first race, you’d stop giving your best, and you wouldn’t win anymore, so - no more prize money. If you don’t want to believe that he’s honorable enough to keep his word, at least grant him the intelligence not to sabotage his own interests like that.“

Burke closed his eyes and rubbed his hand over his face. „Alright, fine. I’ll count on his self-interest. Anything else you need me to do, Al?“

„Don’t provoke that trainer of yours,“ Virdon said, ignoring his sarcasm. „I’ll try to convince Galen that you don’t need that ape to win the race.“ He slowly sat down on the steps once more. Although his leg could bear his weight for longer periods of time now, he was still glad when he could rest it.

„Good luck with that,“ Burke muttered, avoiding his gaze. „That monkey is hell-bent on making me the next Phar Lap.“

„I’ll just point out to him that he gets to keep a hundred percent more money if he gets rid of that ape,“ Virdon said with a wink. „That should do the trick.“

But Burke didn’t smile. „Yeah,“ he murmured. „Let me know how it goes.“ He grabbed the vest that he had thrown across a bush before they had started their Tai Chi session. „You know, Al,“ he said suddenly, „maybe we shouldn’t wait for Zana to get her act together. Maybe we should leg it now, make it across the mountains before the weather gets too bad.“

Virdon didn’t bother to remind him of all the reasons his idea wouldn’t work - no money, no papers, and still too many apes with guns. „Hang in there,“ he said, hoping his voice would convey more optimism than he felt. „We’ve made it this far, we’ll make it across the mountains, too, in time. Let me talk to Galen... it  _ will _ get better, Pete. I promise.“

Burke nodded, but he didn’t meet his eyes.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Zana had no idea how to conduct a police investigation; she didn’t even have Felga’s background in snooping for purposes other than exposing murderers. She did have a vague notion that it involved asking people where they had been at the time of the murder... but what if they lied?

„I’m really surprised that _you_ are asking _me_ out, after being miffed at me over that dinner the other day,“ Rogan said. „Not that I’m complaining, mind you.“

They were at the same tavern again, sitting in the garden this time. Zana kept her gaze on the green shadows dancing over the tablecloth. A soft breeze was ruffling her fur. The air was mild, just cool enough to not be suffocating anymore. It was a fine day to sit in the sun with one’s eyes closed, thinking about nothing.

„It’s lunch, not dinner,“ she murmured, „and I’m not asking you out. Each of us will pay for their own meal.“

Rogan reached for his cider and flicked her a lopsided smile. „Understood. It’s just another business meeting... but you have to help me out there, Alta: what kind of business?“

Zana drew a deep breath and finally looked up to meet his gaze. „Felga’s murder.“

Rogan raised his brows at that. He took a sip from cider. „Again? The case is closed.“

„Did you know about Levar’s and Felga’s relationship?“

Rogan closed his eyes and scratched his brow. „I see Halda found you.“

„Did you know?“

The guard sighed. „No, I didn’t know. Nobody knew, apparently, except Halda, which makes her claim a bit hard to prove, you know? And even if it was true, it wouldn’t change a lick about the evidence. You’d just have to amend his motive a bit.“

Zana frowned. „Why would Halda make a false claim about Levar?“

„Maybe she’d set her eyes on him herself, who knows? If she saves his life, he’d be very, very grateful.“ Rogan grinned, and Zana felt suddenly too hot in her fur.

„He owns racing humans,“ she pointed out. „He’s everything she despises.“

Rogan hummed. „But it’s the forbidden fruit that tastes the sweetest, Alta.“

„You would know,“ Zana said weakly, „being an officer of the law, and all.“

It had been a mistake to ask Rogan for another meeting. She had hoped to tease out some advice on how to proceed with her own secret mission, but the guard was sprawled in his seat, one arm behind the backrest, watching her with half-lidded eyes and a smile that told Zana that he wasn’t concerned with investigating Halda, or Levar, or their motives any longer.

„Well,“ she said, furiously determined to ignore the shift in their conversation, „I’d like to talk to Levar, if you don’t mind. To... to put my mind at ease. Halda’s idea that he could be innocent is robbing me of my sleep, and, and I need to see for myself that it’s just a delusion of hers. Please?“

Rogan frowned. Well, at least he wasn’t piercing her with those smoldering eyes anymore. „That’s against regulations, actually,“ he said slowly.

She didn’t want to do this. But he gave her no choice. „Maybe he’ll tell me why he didn’t move Felga’s body from his premises,“ Zana offered. „I’m just a friend of Felga’s, not a guard, he’ll see me as harmless.“ She drew a deep breath. „And then I could tell you what he let slip... over dinner.“

Rogan propped his chin in his hand and watched her for a long, uncomfortable moment. „You, my dear Alta,“ he said finally, „are anything but harmless. Alright, you’ll get a permit to visit Levar. Don’t be disappointed when he just curses you. And no matter if he tells you anything or not,“ and the rakish smile was back, „you’ll report to me over dinner tonight.“

_Galen won’t like this._

_Galen will probably be at his favorite pub again tonight._

Zana raised her glass, and forced herself to smile. „It’s a deal.“

* * *

Junior led Zana to the interrogation room, had her sit down at the table, and vanished to get Levar. The room was small, the only window tiny and high up at the ceiling, and barred - although only a squirrel monkey would have fit through it, anyway. Zana assumed the bars were there to remind whoever was sitting at that table that they were no longer a free ape now. It certainly made _her_ feel that way.

She rubbed her sweaty palms on her robe under the tabletop, and fervently wished to have kept her mouth shut towards Halda, or at least Rogan. She didn’t want to be here - didn’t want to look into the face of the ape that most probably had strangled Felga. Rogan’s caution that all she had for Halda’s claim of secret love between Levar and Felga was Halda’s claim, had lodged into her mind and wouldn’t go away.

The door opened and jerked her out of her musings. Junior appeared, leading another Chimp into the room. The prisoner's hands and feet were shackled; that was the first thing that Zana noticed about him.

That, and his scowl, as he looked her up and down.

„Do I know you?“ he asked as he clumsily sat down across from her. Junior retreated to the door where he took up his post. Zana suppressed a little sigh. They wouldn’t have that conversation in private. Her deal with Rogan began to look more and more like what it was - a snare to rope her into more scandalous behavior. Rogan probably thought he’d get away with it, because she was a stranger.

She forced her thoughts away from her own stupidity and focused on the man who was still staring at her. „No, we haven’t met before. I’m Alta, I’m... I was a friend of Felga.“

„Cesar!“ Levar murmured and raised his eyes to the ceiling. „Rogan had promised me not to put me in the pillory! Instead he’s parading the town through his watch house!“

„I’m not here to throw rotten fruit at you,“ Zana said dryly. „I just want to ask you a few questions.“

Levar narrowed his eyes. „Did Rogan swear you in as auxiliary? Because I don’t see a badge on your robe.“

This time, Zana didn’t suppress her sigh. This was more difficult than she had expected. „Halda told me about the... special relationship you and Felga had,“ she said.

He gaped at her. Then he buried his head in his arms with a groan. „Women!“

„Excuse me?“ Zana had expected him to be glad that someone was speaking up for him. „Halda swears you didn’t kill Felga...“

„That’s nice of her.“ Levar lifted his head from his arms. „But she’s not the police, or the judge, or the executioner, and none of them gives a damn about what Halda swears.“

„That’s why I’m here,“ Zana pointed out. „The police dismissed her out of hand, but I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. I’m willing to believe that you didn’t kill your lover, and to try to find out who was the real murderer. So maybe you should give me the benefit of the doubt, too - because I can assure you that no one else will step through that door to help you.“

He stared at her, his jaw working. „And why would you want to help me?“ he asked finally. „You’re not even from Sapan.“

„No, I’m not from around here,“ Zana confirmed. „Maybe that’s to your advantage - I don’t have any preconceived opinions about you or your business. But I knew Felga, if only for a short time, and she deserves justice... and that means that I don’t want to have a shred of doubt about the identity of her murderer.“

Levar drew a long, measured breath, and leaned back in his seat. „What do you want to know?“

„They didn’t let me read your file,“ Zana said, „so you may already have answered some questions. Where were you when Felga was killed?“

Levar sighed. „At home. And no, I don’t have any witnesses. I was alone.“

„Were you expecting her?“

Levar shrugged. „Not exactly, but I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had turned up - Felga preferred to decide when she’d come visit me. It depended on whether she could sneak out to Blue Lightning Kennels undetected.“

The name reminded Zana of something. „They found blue threads in her fur... they think it’s from one of the bandages for the humans...“

„Yeah, I strangled her with our own racing silks, and then I dragged her over to the kennel section and then I painted a sign on my chest that read ‘I killed Elapa Felga’,“ Levar sneered. „If I was so damn stupid, I’d never have made it out of the woods and onto the racing track.“

His words echoed her own thoughts; but maybe Rogan had come across some really stupid criminals during his career, and didn’t give people as much credit as Zana did. „So you’re saying that someone set you up?“

„Damn right that’s what I’m saying!“ Levar scowled fiercely at her, although Zana assumed it wasn’t directed against her, personally.

„Could someone else have had access to those blue bandages?“ Zana thought it might be more useful to focus on the means instead of the motive. As she had learned, almost everyone had had a motive to kill Felga in this town, which hadn’t impressed Felga in any way. Zana didn’t know if she should admire the woman for her courage, or despair over her arrogance.

„Sure.“ Levar shrugged. „During the main season, all racers are down at the big stadion, in their kennels, and all their equipment is down there, too - anyone can snatch a roll of bandages, or some leftovers that’ve been trampled into the dirt.“

Zana frowned. „But as far as I understood it, the racing season hasn’t begun yet - all the humans are still with their owners. Could someone have stolen it from your kennels?“

„It’d be more difficult,“ Levar said hesitantly, „and more dangerous. I had to hire security for my racers. But it wouldn’t be impossible.“

Zana leaned back in her seat herself, trying not to feel discouraged. So everyone had a motive, and anyone could have gotten access to the murder weapon. And with Felga’s habit of sneaking around town after dark, anyone would have had ample opportunity, too. This was getting her nowhere.

Levar regarded her with a grim little smile. „Now you understand why the good constable prefers to think it was me... much simpler case, that way.“

Zana silently agreed with him. Felga had made too many enemies for herself, just like Levar must have made them, too...

She sat up straighter, as a new thought struck her. „Well, let’s forget about Felga for a moment. Do you have any idea who would’ve wanted to set you up, you specifically? Anyone, who, who’d be interested to get Felga _and you_ out of the picture at the same time?“

Levar chewed on the inside of his lip and grinned. It looked as if he was suffering from toothache. „Yep, ma’am. I do.“

 


	7. Chapter 7

Silver Arrows Kennels wasn’t a place that readily welcomed visitors, Zana thought as she eyed the massive gate that cut across the road; for those visitors who didn’t get the hint, a sign informed them that this was private ground, and any trespassers would be prosecuted.

Well, it actually said that trespassers would be shot, but Zana refused to believe that anyone but the watch had the authority to do that. Still, she didn’t want to try her luck, and had obediently rung the bell.

She was still waiting for someone to come to the gate.

In the meantime, she tried to get an idea of the kind of person the owner of Silver Arrows was, by what she could see through the bushes behind the gate. They said that your home was the mirror of your personality, after all.

This home said two things that she could discern from this distance - one, that whoever had built it had money to spend, and had had no qualms doing so, and two, that they were traditionalists: the house was nesting in the crown of a huge candler oak. Considering the size of the house, Zana wondered how they had stabilized the tree crown. Behind the tree and its house, an artificial hill shielded the arboreal estate against the winter storms, a construction that canceled out the point of living close to the sky somewhat.

If its owner was anything like this house, Zana thought wryly, he was someone who liked to flirt with the idea of ‘proper apedom’, but was too squeamish to really walk the talk. They’d probably judge anyone else who didn’t meet those standards, though.

Urko would scoff at that hill. For a fleeting moment, Zana wondered what the general’s house must look like.

Her musings were interrupted by the crunching of gravel under quickly approaching boots, and the glare of an elderly Chimp face that appeared on the other side of the gate. „Yes?“

„Good evening, sir,“ Zana said politely. „I’m here to see Padraman Vilam.“

The scowl on the Chimp’s face deepened. „And I’m sure you have an appointment with Master Vilam?“

Zana hesitated - if she said no, the old grump would certainly chase her away. „No,“ she admitted. „I haven’t had opportunity to meet him yet, but,“ she flicked a glance to the treehouse, „I’ve heard so much of him that I just had to try my luck. He’s the most famous kennel owner in Sapan, after all!“

The Chimp chewed on that for a moment. „Your luck that you didn’t try to swindle your way past the gate,“ he finally growled, but made no move to open it. „Now that you’ve seen me, you can turn around and totter all the way back to Sapan.“ He made a shooing motion when Zana didn’t move.

Zana decided for a frontal attack. „Don’t you want to show me your famous kennels? They are the most famous item of Sapan!“

Vilam stared at her. „No, I don’t want to show you my kennels, you crazy woman! Now bugger off!“ He halfway turned away, then stopped to gauge if she was retreating as ordered.

Zana stayed where she was. „I must’ve misremembered. I think the guide said they’re the _only_ remarkable thing about Sapan. Or maybe they said that about ‘Blue Lightning Kennels’? I’m so bad with colors...“

Vilam snorted. „There is no ‘Blue Lightning Kennels’ anymore. The owner’s gonna hang, and I’m gonna buy up his racers.“

„News travel fast around here, I see,“ Zana said evenly. „You sure profit from Levar’s bad luck.“

The Chimp coughed, and spat. „Luck has nothing to do with it. The fool just couldn’t control himself, not that I blame him. Someone had to take out that cancer, sooner or later. ‘twas just a question of who’d crack first. I’m glad it wasn’t me.“

„Well, nobody saw him kill Felga, or lay her in a ditch,“ Zana pointed out. „So I wouldn’t be so sure that this case is closed. As soon as the police gain new information, they might arrest someone else. Unless you have witnesses to your whereabouts in that night, I wouldn’t feel so safe.“

Vilam narrowed his eyes, and grabbed the topmost bar of the gate. „Are you accusing me of something, Miss?“

„Am I?“ Zana asked innocently. „I’m sure you have nothing to fear, sir. Where were you in the night of Felga’s death, though?“

„I was in a business meeting with director Olman, not that it’s any of _your_ damn business.“

„You’re right,“ Zana said sweetly, „it’s none of my business. And since I’m not the police, I won’t ask you how much you paid that Olman to give you an alibi.“

It was a gamble; for all she knew, Vilam could really have been in a business meeting... in the middle of the night... Or maybe he had spent that night with cider and _keppa,_ and one of the feisty Chimp ladies from the seedier pubs in town, and was just too coy to admit it.

The burly Chimp gaped at her. Then he drew a deep breath; Zana took a cautious step back.

„That’s _Director Olman of Tall Timber_ for you, you stupid cow!“ Vilam bellowed. „He’s got more money than any of us will ever earn in a lifetime, he doesn’t need anyone’s money to make shady deals! He’s got so much money that he’s doubling the size of the Sapan _Androdrome,_ and that’s what he and I had been talking about! And now get out of my sight before I shoot your smug face off!“

Suddenly, Zana was staring into the barrel of a gun. „I’m not trespassing on your ground,“ she protested.

„You’re trespassing on my _afternoon,“_ Vilam growled. Zana could hear the familiar ratcheting sound as he worked the lever of his gun. „And I cherish my afternoons!“

Zana didn’t look back once, but she felt that gun in her back all the way to town.

* * *

„So, who did Levar point his finger at?“ Rogan rose to refill Zana’s glass, and she used the pretense of inhaling the wine’s bouquet to delay her answer. She had a feeling he’d scoff, no matter which ape she named.

They were back at Rogan’s favorite tavern; Zana wasn’t surprised that the waiters were greeting her by name now. She didn’t want to imagine what they told their wives at home, and what those wives chatted at the market...

„Another kennel owner named Vilam,“ she said at last.

Rogan snorted, just as she had predicted. „Of course he would,“ he murmured, and sat down again.

„Why?“ Zana felt compelled to ask. „There are a number of apes who Felga had... scrutinized in her articles.“

„True.“ Rogan picked up the menu and pretended to study it. „But Levar and Vilam go way back. If I had arrested Vilam, he’d have claimed that Levar framed him.“

„Really?“ Zana didn’t touch her menu card. She wasn’t hungry anyway. „How come?“

Rogan glanced at her over the edge of his card. „Aren’t you going to order something?“

Zana shrugged. „I’ll take whatever you have.“

Rogan dropped his gaze to the menu again. „As you wish. Though I warn you that I’m not going to order a salad.“

„Levar and Vilam,“ Zana reminded him.

„Hmm.“ Rogan’s eyes rapidly scanned the card. „Vilam is old money,“ he said at last, and dropped the menu on the table. „His family has been breeding racing humans for generations. They were the uncontested favorites of every race. The most interesting thing was who’d come in second or third place, because the first ones always came from the Silver Arrows Kennel.“ He shrugged. „And then Levar came out of nowhere, basically, and kicked them off their throne. Vilam never really got over that humiliation.“

„Levar’s not from Sapan?“ Zana asked.

„Oh, he is,“ Rogan said. „But his family were woodworkers, like almost everyone around here. They were losing money in the races, not making it. Betting on humans - or horses - is the main way of saying goodbye to your hard-earned money here in the mountains.“

The waiter arrived to take their orders, and Zana used that interruption to add Rogan’s information to her memory of the man who had brushed her off so rudely, when she had tried to talk to him after her visit with Levar.

„So,“ Rogan continued, startling her out of her reverie. „Young Levar was meant to buy himself an apprenticeship, but instead, he took the money and bought his first human.“ He chuckled at the memory. „Man, that was one scrawny cub! No idea where he picked up that one. Anyway, to say that his old man was outraged is an understatement. He demanded that Levar sell the creature and start his apprenticeship at the ironware shop downtown. Levar grabbed his human and took off into the woods. They were gone for three years.“

„He sounds very... dedicated,“ Zana murmured. „Does he still have that human?“

„No.“ Rogan took a sip from his wine. „After his first wins, he sold his whole kennel, vanished for another year, and then returned with a whole new batch of humans. Turns out he went way, _way_ South; they have another breed of humans down there, very dark skinned, very sleek - you can’t beat them. Best racers I’ve ever seen. I don’t want to imagine what he paid for them, but ever since he returned with them, Vilam hasn’t been able to win a single race. Nor has anyone else.“ He looked up and smiled a slow, ironic smile.

„Of course, with their owner arrested and soon to be executed, they won’t run in any of this year’s races. And after they’ve taken down the gallows, the platform will be reused for the big auction. I guess Vilam will buy a few of Levar’s racers, too.“

Zana reached for her own glass. Felga had called the stable owners ‘murderous bastards’. They seemed indeed to be like a pack of hyenas. „So Vilam did have a strong motive to get both Felga and Levar out of the way,“ she murmured.

„Oh yes,“ Rogan admitted candidly. „And so had every other kennel owner from here to the Pokhle valley.“ He leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table. „I know what you’re trying to do, Alta, and it speaks for you. But if you have dozens of suspects, it’s easy to lose sight of the most obvious solution.“

„And what if the obvious solution is the wrong one?“ Zana asked. „What if it’s been arranged for you, so that you just have to pick it up, without looking further?“

„Most of the time, the simplest solution _is_ the right one,“ Rogan said. „Zarvis’ razor.“

 _„Most_ of the time isn’t good enough, when a man’s life is on the line,“ Zana retorted. „You need to be absolutely certain.“

Rogan stared at her. „I am certain.“

 _„Absolutely_ certain?“

Rogan continued to stare at her, drawing his lip through his teeth. „Have you talked to Vilam?“

Zana picked at her napkin, not meeting his eyes. „Not really. He was very rude. He did claim to have an alibi - he met with someone named Olman. A business meeting, something to do with the racetrack here?“

„Ah, yes - the big Five Valleys project. Olman is its biggest sponsor. It’s his dream.“ Rogan shrugged. „I have no idea what Vilam could’ve wanted to discuss with him in regards to that stadium, though - maybe he wanted to convince him to sponsor his kennel, too. He sure could use the money.“

He broke off when the waiter arrived with their meal - something with meat again, and mushrooms. „Ah. Finally. We should eat, Alta, and maybe talk about more pleasant things.“

But Zana wasn’t finished yet. „But this Olman isn’t another kennel owner, is he?“ Somehow, _Tall Timber_ didn’t sound like a kennel name. It lacked a color, too.

Rogan looked at her with big eyes. „Olman?“ He laughed. „Oh, no. Olman isn’t a simple kennel owner. Racing is a hobby for him, nothing more. He’s the head of the Tall Timber Trading Company.“ He waved his arm, encompassing the whole tavern. „He basically owns these mountains.“

She would have to check Vilam’s alibi with the most powerful ape of the region, Zana realized. If he deigned to meet with her at all. Contrary to the police, she had no authority to force people to talk to her.

Rogan had been watching her face, or maybe his sharp eye had caught her sagging shoulders. „Just leave the police work to the police,“ he said softly. „We didn’t just grab a random ape from the street, believe me. We did our homework here, and I assure you, we got the right guy.“

Zana smiled tiredly at him. „I never thought you were anything less than meticulous in your work, Constable Rogan. And you’re right - we should talk about more pleasant things.“

Rogan smiled back and raised his glass to her. „I approve of that sentiment.“

Zana raised her glass, too, and took a sip from her wine.

Maybe she could catch Olman tomorrow, at the race.

 


	8. Chapter 8

The day of the race was a bright and windy, and although the breeze wasn’t exactly cold, Burke shivered inside his jacket. He’d have to shed it later, for the race; he’d be wearing nothing but shorts then. He supposed he should be grateful that the apes didn’t insist on having him run stark naked, but they needed something to fasten the numbers to... and to show off their kennel’s colors.

His color was white, since he didn’t belong to any of the local kennels; all outsiders were wearing white, Marpo had told him, but today, he’d be the only one. He’d stick out of the rainbow throng of the other racers... but he’d stick out anyway, like a Clydesdale among Arabians.

These humans were narrow-framed, long-limbed, stalking around with the nervous air of racehorses, which they actually were. They had been _bred_ for this, for centuries, and Burke forcibly turned his mind away from that fact, because it was freaking him out every time it wormed its way back into his thoughts, and today, he couldn’t let it distract him.

He still hadn’t decided if he would run for real, or just lose by a mile and be done with. He hadn’t had a chance to talk to Al again, so he didn’t know if the colonel had been successfully haggled for a share of the prize money. And Al had been right - they desperately needed the money, for whenever they made it across the mountains...

„Limber up, boy, race is starting in a quarter _atseht,“_ Marpo interrupted his thoughts. An _atseht_ was something like an hour, but their length changed with the season, and Burke had no idea if he had fifteen minutes, or ten... or half of a human hour. In any case, it would be too short. He felt exposed and scrutinized, both by the apes and by the other humans, who were already jogging across the cordoned-off warm-up paddock.

Everyone was staring at him. Burke felt sweat break out all over his body.

_I can’t do this._

He had never been shy - hell, when he had been surfing, he’d worn less than now, and he’d basked in the admiring stares of the girls, gleefully showing off his goods. But this was different. The apes looked at him as if they were calculating his price tag.

Marpo gave him a little push. „Get to it, boy. Warm up, then do your stretches. You don’t wanna tear a muscle out there. It’ll be brutal enough without that, believe me.“

Burke drew a deep breath, and began to slowly jog across the place - he didn’t want to jog along the fence, where apes were clustering, staring at him, calculating who they’d put their bets on. He determinedly kept his gaze on the sandy ground, and his focus on the sensation of fine grains under his naked soles, the hardness of the trampled soil as his toes pushed against it with each step-

Someone shoved into him, and he stumbled several steps sideways. When he looked up, whoever had crashed into him had already vanished into the weaving crowd of humans again.

Maybe it had been his fault, for not watching where he was going...

Something hit him between the shoulderblades, hard, and Burke swung around without thinking, and crashed his fist into the racer’s face. Bone crunched, and the man toppled to the ground, clutching his head. Blood oozed from between his fingers.

Shouts erupted from the fence, and suddenly, Burke and the writhing racer were alone on a wide plain. The other humans had vanished to the far end of the paddock as one man, as several apes leaped over the fence and came running towards him. Burke stumbled back two steps, and fell into a defensive stance.

Then Marpo was at his side. „Back to the fence,“ he snarled. „I’ll take care of this. _Move,_ boy!“ He gave Burke a rough push, and positioned himself between him and the enraged apes who had reached them by now. One of them crouched down over the human who was still lying on the ground.

_Pussy. I didn’t hit him that hard._

Burke slowly retreated to the fence, while Marpo and the other ape engaged in a shouting match. He felt as if he had already run for miles. Everyone was watching him now, as well as the drama in the middle of the paddock, and suddenly Burke wanted to run, and not stop until he was deep in the mountains.

„Oh Peet, are you alright? I’m so sorry...“

Burke jerked around - Zana. She was standing at the fence behind him, staring at him with a doleful expression. He hadn’t expected her to be here. She hadn’t seemed too interested in this whole racing thing... or in anything concerning him or Al. They had to deal with Galen on their own now. The only time she paid any attention to him was when she called him for cuddles, which he had come to dread more than her negligence.

But she was a familiar face in a sea of ape visages, and he went over to where she was standing, because he didn’t know where else to go.

Zana stretched out her hand and patted him on the arm. „He shoved you on purpose,“ she said, „I saw it with my own eyes. Don’t mind all these people, Pe... Dehni. You were right to hit back.“

„I’m not a sprinter... Alta,“ Burke said, hating his pleading tone. „I ran marathons back home... long distances. I don’t know if I can do this.“

Zana looked at him with pity in her eyes, and Burke realized that he had just begged her to take him out of the race.

„I disagreed with G... Faro about letting you run,“ she said. „You have to believe me. But he... he didn’t listen to me. And I can’t take back the nomination without his approval, since he was the one who had you listed in the first place. I’m... I’m sorry, Dehni. I know you don’t want to be here.“

„He’ll do just fine, ma’am, don’t you worry.“ Marpo had joined them; behind him, Burke could see the apes leading their human to the other end of the paddock. „Don’t you worry about that beast,“ Marpo continued, following his gaze. „Everyone saw that it started the whole thing. Tuolom can count himself lucky that I didn’t file a complaint against him and had his creature disqualified for that stunt. Sit, boy, I need to tape your ankles. No more time for warming up, more’s the pity.“

With a last desperate glance to Zana, Burke sat down and leaned against a post. Marpo grabbed his leg and began to tightly wrap a bandage around his left ankle, and Burke fought against the intense feeling of being bridled like a horse.

„What happens now?“ he heard Zana’s nervous voice above his head.

„Now we’ll go over to the race track, and get him into his box, and when the signal rings, the doors will open, and this good boy will run like the wind, and not stop until he crosses the finish line,“ Marpo said. He patted Burke’s knee. „Preferably coming in first.“ He set down Burke’s left leg, took up the other one and began wrapping his ankle with sure, swift movements.

„This is a nice, small race,“ he continued. „Nice middle distance, nothing too demanding. They’re all older racers, too, though not as old as yours, ma’am. Truth be told, he’s a bit too old to race at all - but since he hasn’t run since he was twelve, his joints aren’t that worn down. He’s got a good fighting chance, or I wouldn’t have trained him. Too bad I didn’t get my hands on him sooner - with his talent, we could’ve run him in the big stadium, in the City. Ah, maybe his offspring will get the chance.“

He set down Burke’s foot and dragged him up by his arm. „No time for dawdling, now. Give me that.“ He slipped off Burke’s jacket, and took a step back to admire his naked chest. „You know, that was a nice idea of yours, to decorate him like that. What did you use, a branding iron?“

Zana stared at his black scars with disgust, and Burke fought the urge to cross his arms over his chest like a virgin. He had totally forgotten about the damn things.

„He already had them when I got him,“ Zana said. „We don’t brand our humans. That’s cruel.“

Marpo shook his head. „Take my advice, it’s good advice - brand them. Papers can get lost, and around here, they don’t count much, anyway. You don’t want to lose your human to an ape who puts his iron on it while you weren’t looking.“

„Thank you for your concern,“ Zana said stiffly. „I’ll take your advice under consideration.“

Marpo shook his head, and put his hand on Burke’s neck. „You do that, ma’am, and I’ll talk to Faro about it, too.“ He steered Burke to the exit.

Burke kept his gaze fixed on the ground and let Marpo lead him to the start line, glad not to have to look up and see the leering faces of the simian audience. The trainer’s offhand remarks were still echoing in his mind. Galen... Galen wouldn’t brand them. He wouldn’t want to keep them... unless he was making money with them.

Maybe he should lose on purpose.

„Try to get ahead of the field as soon as you’re out of the box,“ Marpo murmured into his ear. „These creatures are vicious - they aren’t allowed to grapple, but they can sure trip you up, or throw dirt in your eyes. You don’t want to be caught up inside the field, and believe me, you don’t want to try and overtake the field, either. Don’t hold back - give everything, right from the start. You got me?“

Burke’s throat was dry. The cage was tiny, narrow, he wouldn’t be able to sleep in there, and they’d poke him with burning splinters if he tried to...

He blinked. It wasn’t _that_ kind of cage...

„Yessir,“ he croaked, and stumbled into the start box.

* * *

„Let’s get you to your seat, ma’am,“ Marpo said, when he returned from the start line. The gates were shut now, all racers waiting for the signal, ready to explode from their boxes. Zana wondered how Peet managed, in there. Ever since his captivity, he couldn’t stand being in confined spaces.

„My seat?“ she asked, confused.

Marpo gestured towards the grandstand at the far side of the racetrack. „You do wanna see them crossing the finish line, right? Owners and trainers are entitled to seats there,“ he explained while he led her through the crowd of spectators bustling and shoving all around them. „For the rest, it’s first come, first served. In the big stadium in the City, they have private suites for the owners and the VIPs, but this one’s just a minor track. So let’s hurry up - you don’t wanna miss Liquid Fire’s first triumph, do you?“

„Liquid Fire...“ Zana repeated slowly.

„Your boy’s racing name - we gotta call him something, right?“

The rows were almost filled to the last seat when they arrived; Marpo went in front of her, shoving and cursing and, occasionally, apologizing. Zana only noticed Galen when Marpo twisted sideways to let her through - her fiancé was standing in his seat, taking her from Marpo’s hands. Zana wondered what a big race would look like, if this spectacle counted as a small one in Marpo’s book.

She slowly sat down, flanked by Marpo and Galen; the row below her was conspicuously empty. It contradicted Marpo’s claim that seats were occupied by whoever came first - these looked like reservations for the local high society; apes who probably found it necessary to make a fashionably late entrance, too. Zana hoped Peet wouldn’t have another of his episodes in that box in the meantime.

Her fears were unfounded: a procession of Chimps in elegant robes, the women with extravagant hats, filed into the row below her and sat down with an amazing lack of fuss. Directly below her, the silver-haired patriarch of the family turned around in his seat, and studied Zana and her company with shrewd eyes. „You’re the owners of that outsider that’s running today, right?“ He winked at Zana. „I placed a bet on it - I hope it won’t cost me my meager pension.“ The ladies to either side of him giggled.

Zana smiled; this ape didn’t look as if he had to worry about getting food on the table. „He’ll do his best,“ she said. „But that’s the appeal of betting, I’ve been told - the gamble.“

„Oh, this has all become highly predictable.“ The old Chimp contemptuously waved his arm towards the race track. „Which is why I’m so happy that you threw your human into the ring. Maybe it’ll surprise us today. I sure hope it will!“ He turned back to face the track again, and waved at an official-looking ape with a bullhorn.

The ape raised the bullhorn to his lips. „Ladies and gents, welcome to the annual Sapan Valley Racing Competition! We have some fine racers lined up again, they’ve just been led to their starting boxes, and they’re all eager to run!“

Cheers branded up all around her, like a huge wave, and Zana could feel the excitement rush up inside her as if she was porous, unable to keep the crowd’s frenzy at bay. „We have fifteen _loseht_ until go, listen for the whistle signal!“ the announcer blared.

Zana didn’t hear anything over the cries of the crowd, a huge sound cloud that rose and fell, but never really subsided, like the droning of the surf, but she saw the gates crash open all of a sudden, and a flurry of colors burst forth, as the humans shot out and flew over the track like arrows.

And then a human in white sprinted out of the last box. To her left, Marpo cursed.

„Liquid Fire is off to a late start,“ the announcer trumpeted, and Zana thought he was sounding inappropriately cheerful. „We have a dense field here, with Dark Intentions fighting for the lead, Hotfood Hero is close on his heels, true to name, then - Fat Chance, Able Boy, On Target...“

Zana stopped listening; her eyes were glued to the far stretch, where a white speck was slowly catching up to the rest of the racers. She knew what had happened: Peet inside the narrow box, flashing back to his time in Urko’s hands, panicking... not realizing that the gate had opened, caught in that nightmare, confused, lost...

_Oh Peet, I’m so sorry! I never should’ve allowed this to happen!_

„I _told_ him not to lose time in the damn box,“ Marpo muttered beside her. „It’s a damn rookie mistake! Now he has to overtake the whole damn field, on the outer lane, to boot! He’ll have to cover twice the distance!“ He smacked his fists on his thighs in frustration.

The racers turned at the far end of the track and were now on their way to the grandstand. Peet had caught up with the field and was now slowly overtaking the last racers. Marpo was leaning forward, squinting at the track below.

Suddenly, a jerk went through the cluster of racers in the middle of the field. The humans were crashing into each other, as one racer changed lanes, veering towards the inner rail as he tried to overtake the runner in front of him.

And then he tumbled, and fell, and crashed headfirst into the nearest railing post. Zana thought she could hear the crack from where she was sitting. The crowd gave off a single shout. „Able Boy just went down,“ the announcer stated the obvious, „there was some shuffle, but no grappling. The stewards have given no signal for break-off.“ The field raced on.

The human didn’t move. Zana saw Peet turn his head towards him, but he didn’t stop, either.

„Mothers!“ Zana stared at Marpo. „Is he... is he dead?“

Marpo shrugged, his eyes glued to the track. „Maybe it just broke its skull. But could also have been the neck. They’re vicious beasts, humans. Can’t compare them to racehorses. That’s why people prefer human racing - much better show.“

Zana turned her gaze back to the race track, too, fearing for Peet’s life.

He had gained more ground in the meantime, inching towards the first third of the field; as Marpo had predicted, he was taking the outer lane, staying clear of the thick throng of racers in the middle of the field. The first four racers were stretched farther apart now, though, and Zana saw him bearing in, cutting off one of the racers.

„Liquid Fire has made an amazing comeback,“ the announcer roared, „he’s closing in to Rainy Day now, he’s almost there, if he can keep this up, he’ll make a respectable third place...“

Rainy Day, running in silver pants that Zana had learned were Vilam’s colors, was giving his best, legs and arms pumping, but Peet was side by side with him now, slowly overtaking him.

And then Rainy Day’s right arm jerked up and out, and Peet stumbled sideways, clutching his face, falling...

Zana jumped up with the rest of the crowd, booing and yelling. Below her, Peet was rolling forward, over his shoulder, and was up on his feet again, not even breaking his stride. Blood was running from his nose and over his chin. Zana could see his open mouth, teeth white under the red blood, lips peeled back, eyes staring at some fixed point ahead of him. She didn’t know if he was even aware of the cacophony pouring down from the stands, he looked completely spooked.

„Liquid Fire is on his feet again, he’s fallen back behind Rainy Day and Dare To Dream, catching up now, what a fighter, eh, let me remind you, he’s not from any kennel, he’s fresh from the work camp, Hotfoot Hero is now leading the field, Dark Intentions still hot on his foot, I mean heels...“

They still had one more round to run. Zana didn’t know how Peet was still on his feet at all - how he could breathe, with all that blood pouring from his nose. The racers had passed the first turn again, and were now on the far side of the tribune.

She couldn’t sit down again. She was standing on her seat like everyone else, fists clenched, but unable to join into the cheers and shouts of the people around her. That crack of the human crashing against the post was still in her ears. It hadn’t even moved when a Chimp crew had carried it away.

_I don’t care if he finishes last. Please just let him finish whole and hale._

The racers had passed the far turn now, entering the home stretch, and the roar of the crowd was swelling to a deafening volume. Marpo was hopping in his seat, shaking his fist and urging on Peet who was now... Zana didn’t trust her eyes... who was now behind Dark Intentions, and slowly, relentlessly, closing the distance. His whole chest was glistening red now, the blood pumping from his nose with every step and spraying his skin.

„Liquid Fire is giving it all!“ The announcer’s voice was cracking with excitement. „He’s shoulder to shoulder with Dark Intentions... he’s... that’ll be a draw... no! No, he’s overtaking Dark Intentions! He’s pulling clear, he’s... Liquid Fire is in the lead now, and he’s not giving it away anymore! He’s almost there... almost... and he’s in! It’s a win for Liquid Fire, then Dark Intentions, then Hotfoot Hero...“

Marpo was howling, grabbing her shoulders, shaking her, then letting her go just as abruptly and reaching around her to enthusiastically slap Galen on the back. He was grinning so widely that Zana feared he’d tear a muscle. „He did it!“ Marpo roared. „He did it, that son of a monkey _won our race! I told you! I told you so!“_

Galen let Marpo shake him like a puppet, a dazed grin on his face. Zana felt equally dazed; she was gripping the backrest of the seat before her, trying to find Peet down at the tracks. It took her a moment to orient herself; then she saw that apes in the striped vests of the racing stewards were herding the humans back to the paddock where they had done their warming-up routines before the race.

The dignified Chimp who had told her that he had placed a bet on Peet, rose from his seat and turned around to her. „You have an amazing fighter there, lady,“ he said. „Made me a nice sum today, and who knows, maybe he’ll do so again. I’ll keep an eye on him - he’s a wild one.“

„You are Olman, aren’t you?“ Zana asked, following a sudden intuition.

„Yes, of course I am.“ The ape squinted at her. „Ah, so you’re not from here.“

„No, we’re just traveling through.“ Zana threw a quick glance to Galen and Marpo, who were shuffling to the end of the row, probably to cash in their money. Or to take care of Peet’s injury, hopefully. If not, she would have to do it. But right now, she just didn’t have the time. She smiled at Olman.

„Would you, by any chance, have a moment for me?“


	9. Chapter 9

They were ambling towards the humans’ paddock, Zana at Olman’s arm as if he was leading her to a ball. When Rogan had told her that Olman was the president of the local timber company, Zana had pictured a rugged self-made ape, a kind of uber-woodcutter in a flannel shirt, a giant axe tucked in his belt. Instead, Olman was the perfect gentleman, refined enough to fit in at any of the City’s dinner parties. He was probably giving dinner parties himself, though Zana couldn’t imagine who else he’d invite out here.

„As soon as they’ve cleaned up the humans, they’ll lead them to the winner’s circle for taking photographs,“ Olman explained. „The human, its owners, the trainer, and friends - a nice keepsake for you, and a nice decoration for my clubhouse.“

Zana drew her lips into a tight smile. She didn’t know if she wanted her photo in a place where random apes could see it, and recognize her and Galen - and Peet -, but she couldn’t think of a reason to bow out of this ritual. _I wonder if Galen had taken into account that we’ll litter these valleys with wanted posters of our own making when he agreed to this racing enterprise,_ she thought wryly.

„It was one of your foremen who discovered Dehni’s racing talent,“ she told Olman. „Apparently, everyone has two professions here, woodworker, and racing buff.“

Olman chuckled. „Well, we’re simple apes out here, with simple tastes. Honest work, a hearty meal, cider and _keppa_ with one’s friends at the pub, and spending the weekends with the family at the racetrack - that’s our life. And it’s a good way of life, even if it doesn’t have the sort of sophisticated distractions that the big City offers.“

„Well, I don’t know about the City,“ Zana said offhandedly, not taking the bait. „I’d just never have dreamed of being the owner of a real, money-earning racing human myself one day.“

„I’ll be honest with you, lady,“ Olman leaned closer. „He won’t run for long, he’s too old. But I can give you the names of some good breeders, and then he can go on making money for you, and who knows, if you demand some of his offspring as mating fee, instead of the money, you can have them trained for the races.“ He winked at her. „Many a successful kennel has started that way.“

Zana consciously held her emotions in check; she had to keep up appearances. „That would be too kind, sir,“ she murmured.

„I’m always on the lookout for new talent,“ Olman said. „Human racing is a passion of mine.“

They had almost reached the paddock. Zana could see Alan there, doing something to Peet’s face. If she wanted to ask Olman about Vilam, she had to act quickly now. „I heard you’re planning to enlarge the stadium in Sapan,“ she said casually. „And to invite more kennels to the Three Valleys Derby.“

„News travel fast, as always,“ Olman said, amused. „It’s true, we’ll rename it ‘Five Valleys Derby', and one day, who knows, it’ll be the ‘Iron Mountains Derby’.“

„They didn’t really travel, though,“ Zana said, watching Alan. He made a sudden motion and Peet bowled over, holding his face with one hand, and swatting at Alan with the other. „I asked Vilam, and he told me he had a business meeting with you about the project, a quartermoon ago. I was a bit surprised, because I couldn’t imagine what part a kennel owner would play in a construction project.“

„You asked Vilam about the Five Valleys project?“

Zana turned her head to look into the ape’s cunning eyes. „No,“ she admitted, „I asked him where he was the night Elapa Felga was murdered. And he told me he was with you.“

„Elapa Felga, hm?“ Olman stopped walking, and Zana stopped, too. Around them, the crowd parted and closed like water flowing around rocks in a riverbed.

„I thought they had already arrested her murderer.“ Olman cocked his head and regarded her with narrow eyes. „Are you a private investigator, like our dear, late Felga?“

Something in the way he said those last words made Zana’s back stiffen. „Let’s just say I have my doubts about the supposed murderer,“ she retorted. „As far as I can tell, a number of people had motive, means, and opportunity that night.“

„Well, Vilam _was_ in a business meeting with me during that night,“ Olman said. „Although I’m not going to tell you what it was about. I’m sure you understand that that would be bad business practice.“ He smiled politely. „You should go over to your human, before it hurts your husband. You’ve got quite the rogue there.“

Zana spun around; in the paddock, Alan was pinning down a struggling Peet, while Galen was hanging on to a furious Marpo, barely keeping the ape from lunging at the grappling humans. Whatever had happened during the short moments of her conversation with Olman had escalated quickly and was about to escalate even further. She’d have to go over and break it up. Zana huffed with exasperation and turned back to Olman. „I’m so sorry...“

But Olman was gone; Zana’s gaze wandered over the bustling chaos of apes getting refreshments, placing their bets, and crowding towards the paddock to watch the spectacle that her humans were currently performing for free.

Zana resisted the urge to tear at her fur and turned back towards the paddock.

If she absolutely had to have that winner’s photo taken, she had to make sure none of the males acquired a black eye in the meantime.

* * *

_„Shit!_ God _damn,_ Al!“ Burke swatted Virdon’s hand away and bowled over, holding his throbbing nose. The damn racer had smashed his elbow into his face, and yeah, he liked his nose straight, but _shit,_ it hurt more than it had a right to do.

He felt Virdon’s hand quickly ruffle his hair. „All set, Danny. You’re free to dazzle the girls with your pretty face again.“

Belatedly, Burke remembered that Al was going by the name of Nate around here. But the apes wouldn’t listen in to the choked cries of their animals, right? Fucking Marpo at least was letting the world know, at the top of his lungs, that it had been his training that had transformed that crude beast into a sleek winner, and Galen... eh, he didn’t want to think about Galen right now. Which was difficult, as the ape was standing right next to him, bouncing on the balls of his feet and looking smug. Probably counting the _sembles_ in his head.

That reminded him... Burke let his hand drop from his face and glared at Galen. „We haven’t talked about my money yet, boss.“ His voice was thick from his swollen sinuses; blood was still dripping on his chin.

That got Marpo’s attention. „Your money? What in the white wastes are you talking about, boy?“

Burke ignored Virdon’s warning hand on his shoulder. „I’m talking about my share of the prize money. I did the work, I gotta get paid,“ he continued, stubbornly ignoring Virdon’s tightening grip, Galen’s scowl, and Marpo’s eyebrows that were wandering farther up his forehead and into his fur with every word.

„You...“ Marpo laughed. „You have some funny ideas in your stupid head, boy! You run because we tell you to run, and you earn money for your _owner -_ that’s this mellow gentleman here - the kind ape who’s feeding and clothing you, and is not selling you off to the iron mines in the western mountains.“

Burke clenched his fists on his knees and looked at Galen. „Boss?“ _Fuck you, Galen, if you really think you can go all ape master on me, I’ll..._

„I really don’t have to explain to you how the world works, Dehni,“ Galen muttered, and Burke’s vision darkened all of a sudden, it was like looking through a tunnel _you fucking monkey used me like a fucking horse like a tool_

He didn’t know if he had shouted those words, he didn’t know if his hands had snatched a fistful of fabric, or fur, he couldn’t even remember if he had lunged at the ape, the next thing he felt was Al’s weight on him, and sand in his mouth, and Al’s breath in his ear, and „Calm down, calm down, Pete, _Pete!“_

His blood in the sand, and Al pinning him to the ground, and somewhere above him, apes shouting, and Al talking to him, in a low voice, all the words running into each other, _hadn’t had the chance to talk to him yet, leave it to me, Pete, trust me, I’ll take care of everything, okay, Pete? Are you with me, Pete, are you there? C’mon, calm down, this isn’t the time or place to go ballistic..._

Burke closed his eyes and laid his head on the ground, trying to relax his muscles. Virdon was still holding him in a death grip. „Leggo,“ Burke murmured. „I’m done. I’m done.“

He felt Al waver for a moment, and then the weight pressing him into the ground was gone.

Burke stayed where he was, too disgusted to even open his eyes. He didn’t want to see another fucking, filthy monkey for the rest of his life. Or hear one. Or have to deal with one. If he wasn’t allowed to break that fucking monkey’s neck, he’d just stay there in the sand... Let them figure out how to make their happy winner photo then.

„Is there a problem?“

Unknown voice. Sounding official. Sounding like trouble. Burke kept his eyes closed, and his limbs still.

„No, not at all, Constable.“ Galen’s voice, sounding nervous. „We have everything under control.“

 _You don’t have_ shit _under control, monkey. I’m following orders from the colonel, because he’s the only person on this fucking planet who has a right to give orders to me._

 _„What_ is going on here?“ Zana’s voice, resolute, exasperated. _Join me, missus, I’m fucking exasperated, too._

„Alta. I thought you disapproved of this blood sport?“ Constable again, sounding... Burke opened his eyes, but didn’t move a muscle. Was that ape _coming on_ to Zana?

„I disapprove of a lot of things, Constable.“ Zana’s voice was cool, but... Burke had flirted with too many girls to miss the undertone of amusement. _No way. Zana?_ „That doesn’t mean I run away from them.“ Her feet and the hem of her green robe came into view, and then she was crouching down by his face, putting her hand on his shoulder. „Dehni? What happened? Are you alright?“

They wouldn’t let him lie here in peace, Burke realized. The quicker he got up, and had that damn photo made, the sooner he’d get out of here, and back to the inn, and to his cot in that tiny storage room he was sharing with Al. He rolled away from Zana and got on his feet. „Yeah. I’m alright.“ He flicked a glance to the assembled apes - one of them a guard, whose black uniform made the hairs rise on his arms - and added a belated, „Ma’am.“

For a moment, nobody spoke. Then the guard - Constable - tapped his fist at his chest in a casual salute, smiled a dazzling smile at Zana, whose warm smile didn’t match the polite dipping of her head, and said, „Well, you really seem to have it all under control. If you need me, I’ll be around.“ The smile deepened and took on a new intensity. Burke raised his brow. _And now he’s going in for the kill._

„Call me anytime.“ With a casual nod and a „Sir“ to Galen, Constable turned and sauntered off.

Galen stared after him with narrow eyes. „Who was that?“

 _That’s the competition, buddy._ Burke felt his mood lift, as he absently took the wet rag Virdon handed him.

„That is Constable Rogan,“ Zana said innocently. „He’s leading the investigation of Felga’s case.“

„And is making eyes at you also part of that investigation?“ Galen growled.

Burke wiped his face to hide his grin.

„Oh Faro,“ Zana said briskly, „don’t be ridiculous.“

„Don’t _you_ be smug,“ Galen snapped, „I know what I just saw!“

Marpo was suddenly in Burke’s face, and snatched the rag from his hand. „I’ll clean you up,“ he said, and closed his hand around Burke’s arm in an iron grip. „It’s bad manners to listen in to your masters when they’re having a... conversation.“ He began to pull Burke to the far side of the paddock. „And you,“ he added over his shoulder towards Virdon, „the same goes for you! Drag your limping carcass over here, before I come and get you.“

 _I’m gonna drop a tree on this asshole before I leave._ Burke craned his neck to peer over Marpo’s shoulder. Galen and Zana were still facing off at the fence. Zana didn’t look amused anymore. Galen looked livid. Burke felt a warm rush of glee tingle in his chest. _Serves you right - you pulled one over on me._

_Now you know how that feels._

 


	10. Chapter 10

Despite the embarrassing scene at the racetrack, Galen couldn’t help but feel profoundly relieved as he stepped out of Dr. Aldo’s office. The bills had eaten up almost all of his share of the prize money; but at least he had been able to pay them in full; he had even been able to buy all the necessary herbs for Zana’s teas and poultices on top of it. They would now last for at least two moons. Galen hoped that after that time they wouldn’t be necessary anymore.

He stopped at a bakery to buy two honey cakes - they didn’t sell fruity cocktails, but maybe the cakes would suffice to remind Zana of that first time they had met...

Or maybe he shouldn’t remind her of that time, when they had both been so carefree, so... young.

With a twitching nose, Galen shook his head and resumed his walk back to the inn. This was ridiculous, they were only seven months older now. It just _felt_ longer, because so much had happened in the meantime. So many bad things.

The honey was seeping through the leaf package, making his hands sticky. No, it wouldn’t be a good idea to evoke that past, to provoke a comparison to the present. They would only contemplate what they had lost, and instead of a romantic meeting, it would be just like any other time they found themselves sitting at the same table: silent... distant.

Galen threw the soggy package away and turned left, into River Lane.

The pub’s name was _Safe Harbor,_ employing the not-too-subtle humor of hardworking apes who sought to escape their wives’ strict rule at home. Galen always felt slightly guilty when he entered it - as if by stepping under that sign, he agreed that Zana was one of those shrews. But it had been the nearest pub on his way home, and right now, he needed a safe harbor, though not from Zana.

The patrons greeted him enthusiastically, congratulating him on his win, and inviting him for rounds of _keppa,_ darts, or just drinking - the last offer with the clear expectation that after the first round of cider, he’d spend all his remaining prize money on buying rounds for all of them.

Galen smiled and refused all offers politely, slowly pushing his way through the crowding, back-slapping apes and towards the bar. „I’ll buy you one round, gentlemen...“ He waited until the cheers had died down.

„But I’m afraid it’ll be only one round - you know that my wife is ill. That money went to her doctor, so I’m as poor as I was before Liquid Fire pounded all your favorites.“

Laughter, jeers, and whistles branded up again at his last words, and Galen joined the laughter and waved for the barmaid to start pouring cider into the waiting tankards.

He retreated to the far end of the bar, sipping his cider and wishing for something more substantial, to take the edge off. So far, he had resisted ordering anything stronger than cider - he was still aware enough to realize that the step from cider to liquor would be one step too far.

Besides, if the cider didn’t help, the liquor wouldn’t either - not in the long run.

Another ape sidled up to him, maybe hoping for a second round. Galen buried his face in his tankard, hoping the Chimp would have vanished by the time he’d set it down again.

„For a man who celebrates a spectacular win, you don’t look happy,“ the Chimp remarked.

Galen didn’t bother to suppress a sigh. „Oh, I am celebrating,“ he said, and tipped a finger against his chest. „In here.“

The Chimp eyed him skeptically, rapping his empty tankard onto the bar. The barmaid flicked him a glance, but didn’t react. Galen’s nose twitched; his suspicion deepened that this Chimp didn’t have any money for a refill left, and was hoping to leech off him.

„Well, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re moping over the money you’re losing out on right now,“ the Chimp said, and stared contemplatively into his empty mug.

Galen sniffed and demonstratively took another draw from his own mug. „My human is not for sale.“

The Chimp threw him a sideways glance. „You really don’t know what ol’ Marpo is doing with your beastie up there?“

Galen let his tankard sink and stared at the ape. „I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying...“

The Chimp grinned and waggled suggestively with his mug. „I might tell ya, if my throat wasn’t so dry...“

Galen held his gaze for a moment, then heaved a deep sigh and waved for the barmaid. „One more for this esteemed gentleman, on my tab. - No need to thank me so enthusiastically,“ he muttered, when the Chimp slapped his back. „Now what did you want to tell me about Marpo and my human?“

The Chimp, who even after being served his drink hadn’t bothered to introduce himself, made a show of taking a deep, deep draw from his mug - he probably emptied it in that one go. Galen hoped he wouldn’t fall off his chair; he had paid for the information that ape claimed to have.

The ape finally set down his tankard with a sigh, and wiped his mouth. „Well, Marpo is keeping your human busy up there, to the joy and profit of himself, and the Red Bushcat, the Purple Sun, the Green Hawks...“

„Wait, wait, wait,“ Galen cut in. „Those names... sound suspiciously similar to some _kennels_...“

„Yeah, well, yes, that’s because they _are_ kennels. If Marpo keeps exhausting your beast like that, I’ll doubt it’ll run as fast in the next race.“ The Chimp chuckled and put the mug at his lips. He heaved an unhappy sigh when he realized it was already empty again.

„That is... interesting,“ Galen said slowly. „And quite disconcerting.“

„If I was you, I’d go up and kick him in the ass for keeping all that money for himself,“ the ape said. He held his mug under Galen’s nose, but Galen ignored the silent prompt.

He rose, and patted the ape on the shoulder. „Thank you so much for your concern,“ he said friendly. „You’ve been a great help, and, ah... don’t drink so much. It’s bad for your health.“ He threw some _sembles_ on the counter, and made for the door.

The warm air outside hit him like a hammer. It was strange - he had only had one drink, that he hadn’t even finished - but after a moment, Galen realized that his head wasn’t pounding from the alcohol, but from anger.

And guilt.

He knew that he had been hard on Peet, maybe too hard, on occasion. Alan deserved his anger, but Peet hadn’t done anything wrong, except for following Alan into that cursed city, as they all had done.

It was just Peet’s _attitude_ towards him, the dogged defiance at every occasion, that made his fur bristle. Peet was - difficult. And the difficulties had only grown since Urko had... had spent time with him. Galen supposed that it was the human’s pigheadedness that had saved his life back then, but it wasn’t as admirable a trait when _he_ was the target of that aggressiveness. It had been easier when Peet’s sarcasm had been confined to jokes and puzzling idioms - they had turned it almost into a game, back then...

But that had been before Urko. And before Zana had lost...

Before _he_ had lost that child. Had lost that future, with children, with a happy Zana...

Galen’s heart clenched in his chest, a sudden pain that made him gasp for breath. He, he couldn’t _think_ about this now, it was pointless anyway, and he had to take care of more immediate things.

He couldn’t allow Marpo to exploit Peet like that. It wasn’t right, for one thing, but it would also harm Peet’s performance in the next race. And like it or not, they needed the money. They needed to stock up on supplies, and they needed to buy equipment for the winter, not just for themselves, but for the horses, too...

Galen slowly dragged his feet towards the inn, wishing for nothing more than to fall into his bed and sleep for a long, long time.

Instead, Alan was sitting at a table in the guest room, clearly waiting for him. Galen felt tempted to just ignore him, and go upstairs, but he knew that look in the human’s eyes by now. Alan had given him a wide berth ever since they had left Silam - if he sought him out now, something must’ve happened.

Well, of course. Bad news always arrived in a crowd.

Galen stopped at the table and looked down at him. „I gather you were waiting for me?“

Alan smiled slightly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. „I am. We need to talk about Pete’s prize money.“

Galen slowly sat down at the table. „I spent the biggest part of it on Zana’s medical expenses, and the rest will buy us food, and,“ he waved a hand towards the guest room behind him, „our lodgings here. I can show you the receipts, if you want.“

Alan shook his head. „I never assumed that you’d keep the money for yourself, but that’s not the point. Pete would’ve given all of his share for Zana’s medical expenses, too - if he had been given a share.“

The human leaned forward, searching his gaze. „Pete _earned_ that money, Galen. He trained hard, and he fought for that win. He deserves to get a share of that money... more than that brute who calls himself his trainer.“

Galen winced at the mention of Marpo. „He could’ve asked me in private,“ he muttered. „It’s just not done, nobody would’ve understood, and we don’t want to stick out, remember?“

„Well, nothing would’ve stopped you from _giving_ him his share in private, afterwards.“ Alan’s voice was as calm and soft as always, but there was a steely undertone in it.

He was right, Galen admitted to himself. Alan was right, he just hadn’t thought of it. At first, he had been too embarrassed, and angry, and then Peet had vanished to the work camp again, and then he had been so happy to be able to pay his debts with Dr. Aldo...

But there was no way he’d let Alan know any of that. Alan didn’t have a right to speak to him like that. Not after what he had taken from him, and from Zana.

He’d kick out Marpo. Then he’d be able to afford giving Peet a part of that money. Maybe ten percent. Or twenty, which would be twenty percent more than any racing human had ever received for its troubles.

„I’ll think about it,“ was all he said. Alan looked disapproving, but nodded.

Galen dug into his money pouch. „And I need you to buy some more leather,“ he said, and put a fistful of _sembles_ on the table. „As welcome as Peet’s racing money is, it’s almost gone now, and we need to buy oats for the horses. With winter approaching, the weather will get bad, and they’ll need it.“

Alan flicked him an exasperated glance; he knew that he was being dismissed. But he scooped up the money without comment, and left.

Galen listened as the human’s dragging steps moved towards the door, and then disappeared. He should go upstairs now, but he couldn’t make his legs obey. He couldn’t face Zana now.

He stayed where he was, listening to the silence.

* * *

The most important trick to get through each day, Burke mused, was not to dwell on the things you’ve lost: like the taste of coffee, or of a cold beer. Remembering sensations always provoked a crash into darkest depression, much more viciously than remembering events ever did.

But right now, Pete Burke wished for a cigar. Too bad the damn monkeys only smoked pipes. He wouldn’t be found dead with a pipe in his mouth, so he had to go without a cigar, or a beer, or coffee. He let out a little sigh and turned his head to kiss the girl in his arms instead. That, at least, was something the monkeys had left him.

Or rather, he had reclaimed it from them.

After Urko... after... he’d been dead inside. Dead all over. Numb. Sometimes, he had been afraid he’d be a monk for the rest of his life, like Al. Though with Al, it was different. The man was just disciplined, took his marriage vows really seriously. Burke couldn’t think of anyone he’d ever known who _wouldn’t_ have bonked that girl in the malaria village.

_You’re too good for this world, Al._

After his victory in the first race, some girls had wandered into the work camp and chatted him up. He’d told them not to come - it wasn’t safe for them. They had just laughed it off. And, well, it had been flattering to be followed by a bunch of pretty girls. Like having groupies. He might not be a rock star, but hey, he was a racing ace, right? And he’d... at first he’d been a bit worried, but as he discovered, there was no need to be worried at all.

He didn’t feel bad about it. He wasn’t taking anything that wasn’t willingly offered. And hell, they sure were willing!

The girl in his arms stretched and yawned, and the feeling of her warm skin gliding against him woke him up completely. Burke smiled and rolled on top of her. „Morning, princess. It’s a nice, sunny day... how about making it even nicer?“

The girl... he didn’t even know her name; but then he had no idea if she knew him by anything else but Liquid Fire. Anyway, that’s not what their relationship was about. The girl smiled and embraced him, and Burke pushed his arms under her back and buried his face in her neck. The sun _was_ already above the horizon; but maybe if they were real quick...

Yeah, it felt good to have this back, to get himself back together, piece by piece by piece...

... but the feeling didn’t last for long. It held exactly until he sauntered into their rooms at the inn, and saw the expression on Galen’s face.

Amused. Thoroughly exasperated.

„I had some curious news reach me,“ Galen said, with a tone dry enough to soak up the Mississippi, „about your latest exploits in the work camp.“

„My sex life ain’t none of your business,“ Burke muttered. „Why do you care if the girls like me?“

„I do care,“ Galen said with the same deadpan expression, „because apparently _Marpo_ made your sex life _his_ business - and quite a lucrative one, too.“

Burke stared at him. „What? What the hell are you talking about?“

Galen leaned forward and folded his hands on the table. „Where do you think all those women are coming from, Pete? Do you think they’re falling out of the trees? You won the Sapan race, as a total outsider - lots of stable owners saw you run, but it’s clear that you’re not up for sale. So what’s the next best thing?“ He leaned back in his seat again, his fingers drumming on the tabletop.

For a moment, Burke was too stunned to say anything, too stunned to move. His knees felt like water.

 _I was wrong. I’m not getting anything back._ It was the only thought in the humming emptiness of his mind.

„Alan asked me to find a way to fire Marpo as your trainer,“ Galen said, as if from far away. „As uncomfortable as this turn of events is for you, it at least gives me a viable reason to do so - after all, he has been defrauding me of my mating fees.“

„Where is Al?“ He had to know where not to go. His face felt numb. _I was wrong._

„He’s gone to town, he won’t be back for at least another _atseht._ Why?“

Burke turned to the door. „Never mind.“ Al was probably buying stuff for his leatherwork. It would be unlikely he’d run into him, if he kept to the outskirts of the town.

He needed to be alone. He needed some fresh air. He needed... to be somewhere without apes.

_Yeah, good luck with that._

In the end, he found himself back in the hole the apes had outfitted for him and Virdon, after aimlessly wandering along the banks of a river he hadn’t even known was there. But he hadn’t had the time yet to admire the sights of Sapan, while he was spending most of his time up in the mountains, cutting wood.

And prostituting himself for Marpo.

_I was wrong. I didn’t get anything back. The apes own everything. Everything._

_There’s no part left of me that belongs to me anymore._


	11. Chapter 11

Zana tried not to feel self-conscious as she entered the market. Her confrontation with Felga had been ten days ago now; in the meantime, Levar had been arrested, Felga had been buried, and an outsider had won Sapan’s racing competition. Surely that sensational sports event had blotted out the earlier scandal. Nobody was watching her. They were all busy with their own shopping lists and...

... her steps slowed. The stalls were crammed into the northern end of the market, while at the southern end, guards were cordoning off almost half of the square. Zana stretched out her hand and stopped a passing Chimp. „What are they doing there?“

„Building the gallows for that poor man,“ the woman said. She sniffed. „They should’ve given him a medal instead, for getting rid of that tattler!“

Zana stared at her. „What had Felga done to you that you’re so full of glee over her death?“ she asked. „Don’t you know _how_ she died?“

The woman flicked her a contemptuous glance. „Hopefully with her scrolls stuffed into her blabbermouth.“ With that, she vanished into the crowd.

Shaken, Zana turned around, and went back to the inn. She didn’t feel like going to the market anymore. What a vicious woman! Were they all like that? Were they all covertly cheering for Felga’s death?

Morla looked up from her morning paper when Zana entered the guest room, surprise clearly written on her face. „Alta? Didn’t you want to go to the market?“

„I did.“ Zana went to the tea oven and poured herself a cup of tea. She didn’t like Morla’s strong, bitter brew, but right now, she needed the ritual to calm her down.

She carried her cup over to Morla’s table and sat down across from her. „But I ran into someone, and... and they’re already starting to build the gallows, and I, I lost my appetite for browsing the stalls.“ She quickly recounted her encounter with the woman.

Morla sighed. „That’s Finla, the way you described ‘er. She’s got reason t’be happy about my poor girl’s death.“

Zana blew on her tea to cover her sigh. „How so?“

Morla leaned conspiratorially across the table. „She’s a be-au-tician.“ She leaned back again. „Or so she says. But everyone knows what she’s got on offer in the backrooms.“ She nodded meaningfully. „Cutting wood is hard work, and the men are away from their wives all summer, but still - it’s _indecent.“_

„Well, maybe it is,“ Zana said slowly, „but if she pays her taxes for it, it’s not illegal...“

Morla rubbed her nose and flapped her newspaper open. „Not when there’s only _simian_ beau-ti-ci-ans in there.“

The tea was scalding hot and burning her lips; Zana hissed and hastily put down her cup. Morla’s insinuation had made her take a sip without testing the temperature... This _had_ to be nothing more than a malicious rumour! A lot of apes were unhealthily obsessed with those tales of bestiality, caught between fascination and disgust, but Zana had never come across a single case where there had been a real incident behind the stories. It was just a favorite fantasy of many apes, _and what does that say about us?_ she wondered. _And about how we view humans? There aren’t too many rumours about apes being indecent with cows, except to slander Gorillas, of course..._

So Finla was yet another ape with a grudge. Zana felt as if she was drowning in a sea of motives - everyone seemed to have one in this town. Maybe she should start taking notes, like Rogan had pretended to do, when he had first met her.

Still, Finla wouldn’t have killed Felga; Zana was pretty sure of that. That woman spent all her hatred in words - they were still ringing in her ears... _Hopefully with her scrolls stuffed into her mouth..._

„Morla.“ Zana stared at her until the old woman peered at her over the edge of her newspaper. „Did Felga seem… different on that day? Worried, or, or angry?”

She probably shouldn’t remind Morla of that day, she thought belatedly; the grief over her daughter’s death had to be still too fresh in the old woman’s mind. But she had promised to look into the matter to Halda - and to herself - and she had to start somewhere.

Morla slowly shook her head. „Felga was always angry. And sad, ever since the day ‘er poor father had that accident.”

„What accident?” It probably had nothing to do with this case, but if she kept Morla talking, maybe the old woman would remember something useful.

„’e worked for Mister Olman, my Dugon,” Morla said wistfully. „And then a tree fell on ‘im, smashed both ‘is legs. A terrible, terrible thing. ‘e never worked another day in ‘is life. Lived in constant pain, and Mister Olman refused to pay ‘is retirement pension. Said it’d been Dugon’s own fault - that ‘e’d been negligent.” She gestured at the guest room. „So I moved all our things out, and started to rent out the rooms. Felga was so mad. Was mad at Mister Olman ever since that day.”

So they were back to Olman again. Apparently, Levar hadn’t been the only ‘special darling’ of Felga, although Zana doubted that there was another secret romance lurking behind that vendetta.

„Do you know if Felga was investigating something unusual? Something... bigger... than Finla’s backroom business?“ she wanted to know. „Did she have any appointments that day, people she meant to meet?”

Morla paused for a moment, considering. „She never talked to me about these things,“ she said finally.

„Maybe she took notes,“ Zana pressed on. „Do you know something about that?“

The old woman stared at her with big eyes. „I forgot about... wait.“ She rose and hurried out of the guestroom. Zana traced the rim of her cup with her finger, and tried not to get her hopes up.

Morla returned with a wooden crate that was overflowing with scrolls, and scraps of scrolls. „She always brought ‘er stuff ‘ere,“ she wheezed, and put the crate on the table with a little huff. „She was worried someone might break into ‘er room and steal it.“

Zana rose from her seat and peeked inside. The contents looked as if they had been thrown into the crate from the other side of the room - or the desk - and then trampled down to make room for more scrolls. Most of them were crumpled, some of them torn. Everything looked old and discarded, and completely unlikely to hide any secret clues.

Still, it was all she had. „Do you mind if I take a look at this?“ Then another thought struck her. „Did you show this to the police?“

Morla shook her head. „When they told me about Felga, I totally forgot... and then they arrested the murderer, and they didn’t need it anymore, did they? You can ‘ave it, I can’t look at it.“ Her eyes were too bright all of a sudden, and she dropped into her seat and hid behind her newspaper.

„Thank you, Morla,“ Zana said, feeling guilty. She grabbed the crate and turned to leave. She wanted to sort through the contents in her own room, where she wouldn’t disturb Felga’s mother with painful memories... and where she could use the floor to spread out all those scrolls.

She quickly carried the crate upstairs, trying to ignore the sniffles behind the newspaper.

* * *

Alan looked up from the leather belt he was decorating. „What is that?“

So much for privacy.

Zana put the crate on the floor. „Felga’s notes about her latest investigations. Since the upstanding citizens of Sapan don’t want to talk to me, I thought I might find something in here they hadn’t wanted to tell Felga, either.“ She sat down at the table and reached for the first handful of scrolls. „You can help me sorting.“

„I’m afraid my reading skills have gotten worse again,“ Alan said hesitantly. „I didn’t have much opportunity to read, since...“ He dropped his gaze to the belt in his lap. „And this is scheduled work, the customer has already paid for it...“

Zana sighed. „Fine. Finish your work. _Then_ help me. Consider it a reading exercise.“

„Yes’m.“

He had said it in such a low voice that Zana wasn’t sure if it was meant to be sarcastic or not. She refused to think about it; she had more important things on her mind now. She rolled out the first scroll, and began to read.

When Alan came to her table some time later, she waved him away. „Felga has the worst handwriting I’ve ever seen - even I can hardly read it. She should’ve become a doctor.“

Felga hadn’t dated her notes, unfortunately, so there was no way to determine which ones were the most recent, and which ones were old news. Zana decided to sort them by subject instead. As it turned out, Felga had kept tabs on nearly everybody, but the highest stacks belonged, naturally, to the kennel owners.

Not a single scroll was about Levar.

So maybe Halda had been right after all, Zana mused. The absence of investigative notes about Levar was conspicuous, considering Felga had even kept notes about Finla. Zana couldn’t bring herself to read them; she didn’t want to know if the rumours had a factual base.

The biggest heap of scrolls was about Vilam. That in itself wasn’t indicative of anything, if Felga had indeed been Levar’s lover, Zana cautioned herself. It would be logical that she would focus on his biggest rival, out of loyalty, maybe. If you could find dirt on any kennel owner, why not pick the one your boyfriend hated the most? Maybe she had tried to help Levar to take out the competition.

 _Don’t speculate,_ Zana scolded herself. _Go by the facts._ She determinedly reached for the first scroll and began to read.

„This Vilam is a horrible man,“ she murmured some time later. She absently reached for her teacup and made a face when her lips touched cold liquid. She had completely forgotten the time, engrossed in her task of deciphering Felga’s big, sprawling handwriting. Sometimes it was hard to tell where one hoop ended and the next began, and she had been sloppy with the ligatures...

„How so?“ Alan murmured. Zana wasn’t sure if he reacted just out of politeness, but she was glad to have a pretense to talk about what she had just read.

„Felga was investigating his racing stable,“ she said. „I don’t know how she managed to slip in undercover - she wasn’t exactly inconspicuous - maybe she had informants, or people who took photos for her... anyway, she writes here that Vilam was, I quote, ‘culling unsuccessful racers by putting a club to the base of their skulls’... and he started that practice with the maiden racers...“ She let the scroll drop to the table and drew a trembling sigh. „That murderous bastard,“ she murmured. „Felga had been right to call them that.“

When she looked up, Alan had stopped sewing and was staring at her. His face was unreadable, but his eyes were of that icy blue again that she remembered from the time they had been searching for Peet. „Maiden racers?“ His voice was as calm as his face. Zana wasn’t fooled.

„First-time racers,“ she said, forcing herself to meet his gaze. „Humans usually start racing at the age of twelve.“

„He’s clubbing twelve year old boys to death,“ Alan repeated slowly.

Zana swallowed. „If they don’t make at least third place... he considers them a lost investment. Why keep on feeding them?“

„Why doesn’t he sell them off?“ Alan bowed his head over his work again, probably so that he didn’t have to look at an ape anymore.

„People here... this isn’t a farming region,“ Zana explained, feeling dirty for having to justify Vilam’s actions. „Humans serve two functions here - woodworkers, or racers. And the racers aren’t really suited for work in the mountains... they are fast, not strong. They... have been bred that way. Vilam wouldn’t find a buyer... well, maybe he’d find a buyer for one of his humans, but not for ten, or fifty. And the stables are producing them in great numbers - too great to be able to sell them off quickly enough when they aren’t making money for their owners.“

„I see,“ Alan said, and then he fell silent again, a heavy, brooding silence.

Zana hesitated. „There’s more,“ she finally said. „But I’m sorry that I even told you this much. You’re a human, of course it must be even more outrageous for you than it is for me...“

„No, tell me,“ Alan murmured without looking up from his work. „It’s no use pretending that the world is different than it is. These are... facts. And we need to deal with the facts.“

With a sigh, Zana took up the scroll again, but before she could find the part again, the door opened, and Galen came in. He looked worn out; Zana couldn’t remember that he had sported bags under his eyes before.

 _He shouldn’t spend his nights in the tavern,_ she thought ungraciously. _But who am I to divest him of that pleasure?_

„What is that?“ Galen gestured at the table that was overflowing with scrolls.

„Felga’s notes,“ Zana said without looking up. „Morla gave them to me.“

„Are you still trying to impress that snappy constable?“ Galen’s tone was caustic.

Zana stared at the scroll, not reading anymore, but unwilling to give up the pretense. „It’s not about impressing Rogan...“

„Oh, are we already on a first name basis? Where else are we, I wonder?“

Zana dropped the scroll on the table and stared up to him. Her indignance was lost on Galen, though, who had turned his back to her to hang up his robe. „I will _not_ tolerate these... these insinuations, Galen!“

Galen spun around to glare at her. „I don’t have to _insinuate_ anything! Do you think I don’t know that you’ve been dating that guard? Not just one date, but _several?“_

Zana clenched her fists and rose from the table. „Those were purely _business_ meetings! Sit!“ she ordered Alan, who had begun to silently pack up his materials. „There’s no reason to slink out the door!“

„Business meetings,“ Galen scoffed. „You have _no_ business meeting other men behind my back!“

„In case you’ve forgotten,“ Zana snapped, „we’re _not_ married! I’m a free woman, and I can meet whoever I damn well please! And I _didn’t_ date Rogan, although he was a much nicer company than you have been since we came here!“

„I’ll send him over then, when you have another of your ‘let’s burrow into my blankets and not get out of bed for days’ episodes!“ Galen yelled. „Maybe he’ll sit at the edge of your bed and hold your hand, and bring you tea... or maybe he’s only interested as long as he thinks you’re a married woman who he has no right to leer at, much less _touch!“_

„At least he wouldn’t stink of cider and tobacco while he touches me!“

That... silenced whatever had been on Galen’s tongue. Zana immediately regretted her words when she saw the stunned hurt in his eyes, but it was too late. They had said the words, and now they were a part of the world. They were... facts. And now they had to deal with them.

Galen took a step back, still staring at her. Then he yanked his robe from the hanger, and headed for the door. „Have fun, then.“

He shut the door with a bang.

Zana stared at it, her heart pounding, her knees wobbling. How could he... how could he accuse her of being unfaithful, just because she had shared a meal with Rogan? She hadn’t even flirted with him, she had only been focused on getting information about Felga’s case!

She had to... to focus. She couldn’t get distracted by Galen’s antics now. Not when Levar’s gallows was rapidly growing in the marketplace. Zana slowly sat down at the table again and took up the scroll with shaking hands. She stared at it, but Felga’s hoops and bows blurred into a meaningless swirling chaos before her eyes.

„How _dare_ he talk to me like that,“ she growled. „Treating me as if I was his property!“

Alan made a noncommittal sound from his corner, and Zana felt embarrassment bloom hot in her chest - here she was raging against being treated like property to a man who, for all intents and purposes, _was_ her property.

The feeling rapidly turned into the heat of rage, though, when she replayed Galen’s words in her mind. „He’s been avoiding me ever since we came here!“ She pushed away from the table and began to pace the room.

„And then he comes here and complains that I haven’t been sitting at this table for the whole time, hands daintily folded in my lap, waiting for him to come home, or come to his senses! He’s just the same overbearing, snide, _entitled_ jerk as his father! I never understood how Ann could put up with him! Maybe she just fell for his charm? I know,“ she told a silent Alan, „it’s hard to believe Yalu could have a charming side, but _Mothers,_ right now it’s hard to remember _Galen’s_ charming side, too!“

She brushed against the table, and a small mountain of scrolls began to slide, and tumbled to the floor. With a huff, she bent down to gather them and threw them back onto the table.

„You know,“ she spun around to Alan, who had put his leatherwork aside and was watching her with a worried expression, „maybe I just fell too fast for him. Maybe... maybe we’re not right for each other. I was... nobody wanted me, ever.“

It was painful to say it out loud, even more painful than all the times she had only thought it, when she had been crying into her pillow. „I was this weird Chimp girl that grew up among Orangutans. The other Chimps shunned me because I wasn’t a ‘real Chimp’, and the Orangutans shunned be because I _was_ a Chimp.“ She swallowed and wandered over to the window. Looking down into the garden was easier than looking into the face of her human.

„And then Galen came along,“ she continued, „and asked me out, and helped me to rescue you, and made me believe he cared for me... for _me._ And I wanted that so much to be true. That feeling of being special for someone... of being wanted.“ She felt tired all of a sudden. The rage, the pain, were gone, leaving her drained. She turned around to face Alan.

„But now I wonder if it was really me he wanted,“ she continued, „or if it wasn’t you. He was terribly eager to meet you. You were ‘so interesting’, as he put it. And I was maybe just a means to get access.“ She hadn’t expected to feel so bitter about that revelation.

„I don’t know how he felt then,“ Alan said softly, „but I saw him when you were injured after we escaped that ruined city. He does love you, Zana, and he’s jealous because he fears he could lose you to this young guard.“

„We didn’t really have time to get to know each other,“ Zana insisted. „Everything developed so quickly! I had only known him for a quartermoon when we had to flee. And... ever since that day, there was never really time to get to know each other. To...“ she shrugged and laughed a small, embarrassed laugh, „to go on another date, talk about other things than escape routes, or Urko’s next move, or which identities to choose...“

„Well, you have that chance now,“ Alan pointed out. „There’s no reason why you shouldn’t have dinner with _Galen_ in that tavern, instead of that officer.“

„I already said it,“ Zana huffed, „those were business meetings! They were about Felga’s case, and _this,“_ she sat down and gestured at the scrolls on the table, „could save a man’s life! And I don’t know about you, but a man’s life is more important now than another man’s pride!“

Alan turned up his palm in a gesture of silent agreement, but Zana found she couldn’t focus on Felga’s notes anymore. She was too agitated to sift through the woman’s scrawl. With a sigh, she rose from the table yet again and went to the humans’ room.

It was Peet’s free day, and she needed to relax.


	12. Chapter 12

The bang of a slamming door jerked Burke awake from a light sleep that had been dotted with uneasy dreams of pursuit, and of dark caves filled with writhing bodies. He was back on his cot again, in the tiny, sun-striped storage room that had been converted into a bedroom for him and Virdon.

Then the door to this room was yanked open, and Galen’s head poked in. „I spoke with Marpo,“ he said curtly. „He’ll no longer train you. You also won’t go back to work for the timber company, so I’d advise you to train twice as hard, because right now, the only money for our living is generated by Alan’s leatherwork.“ He slammed the door shut again before Burke could say anything.

He slowly sat up and rubbed his face to clear his mind. So Galen had slammed the other door, too? The ape had been in a bad mood; Burke had no idea why.

_ Well, what else is new? Galen’s been an asshole ever since I met him. _

He knew that wasn’t true, but right now, Burke wasn’t in the mood for cutting any ape any slack. Not after Marpo had used him like a... a stud. And Galen still hadn’t said anything about sharing the prize money with him, although he now wouldn’t have to split it with Marpo anymore. Instead, he had just waggled the big stick of hunger and homelessness at him, if he didn’t win another race.

Burke bet that he had already been nominated, again without anyone bothering to ask him.

_ For all their talk about how unusual we are, they don’t treat us any different from the humans of this time.  _ And while he could grudgingly agree to the necessity of blending in while in public, the attitude was creeping into their interactions even when they were among themselves now. It didn’t help that Virdon was on his knees all the time, doing penance for leading them into danger in those ruins.

It was as if Al was encouraging the apes to act like the gentry towards them, Burke thought darkly; even Zana had changed her behavior towards them. She was curt and commanding towards Al, and she was... behaving  _ strangely _ towards him.

And now he would be within her reach every day, instead of once a week. As relieved as he was that he wouldn’t have to face Marpo again, the thought of being at Zana’s beck and call made him profoundly uncomfortable.

As if on cue, the door opened again, and Zana came in. „You’re awake,“ she said, and Burke wasn’t sure if she was pleased or disappointed about that.

„Galen just told me he won’t send me up to the work camp anymore,“ he said after an uncomfortable silence, just to say  _ something.  _ „Said I now have to win the next race, so that Al doesn’t have to generate our sole income.“

„That’s nice,“ Zana said absently. She closed the door behind her, crossed the room, and sat down beside him to take a close look at his neck.

Burke kept his gaze straight at the door and nervously rubbed his palms over his knees.  _ Here we go. _

„You need a haircut,“ Zana said critically, and lightly raked her fingers through his hair. Burke felt goosebumps race down his spine. „It’s already growing too long.“ She lifted the strands from the collar of his shirt and twirled them between her fingers. „Or maybe I’ll leave it... I like the feeling. It’s so soft and sleek...“ The strokes became regular, soft and soothing.

Or at least, that was the idea. Burke didn’t move a muscle, his heart racing in his chest.

Her touch wasn’t in any way sexual - at least Burke was reasonably sure of  _ that.  _ She was petting him like he would pet a dog, if he’d ever owned one.  _ He _ was Zana’s pet dog, her go-to body to hug and cuddle, and to provide all those feel-good neurotransmitters that she should be getting from cuddling with her boyfriend.

It wasn’t sexual, no. But it was... it still wasn’t okay. Because he was  _ not  _ a dog. He wasn’t a pet... because he wasn’t a goddamn  _ animal. _

And he had held still, until now, and said nothing, and had endured her unwelcome caresses, because he had told himself that she was grieving, and was probably suffering from a full-blown depression, and needed a bit of affection, and because it did seem to soothe her, and he wanted to help her.

But with Marpo fresh in his mind, and the way he had been used... he couldn’t bear her touch anymore. Burke jumped up and out of her reach. He realized with a start that he was covered in cold sweat.

Zana looked at him with big eyes. „Come back here.“

„No.“ He took a step back. „I can’t... Zana, this gotta stop. You can’t pet me like that.“

She frowned. „Why not? It’s nice.“

Burke took a deep, steadying breath. „I don’t feel comfortable with this... this...  _ thing.“ _

„This  _ thing?  _ What are you talking about? Did I pull at your hair?“

She was playing dumb now, and all of a sudden, the room was too small for the two of them, it was a tiny wooden box, a crate, a cage, and Burke felt his breath snag in his throat.

„You can’t pet me like a...“ He still hadn’t seen a single dog since they had crashed here. Apes didn’t keep dogs, for some reason. „Like a cat. I’m not a cat. I’m not a  _ pet!  _ I’m not a fucking animal! Not a working animal, not a breeding animal, and not a goddamn  _ companion animal!  _ Did that finally penetrate your skull,  _ ape?“ _

She was gaping at him, she still didn’t understand, and he had to get out, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to come back here, into this little box, and face this all over again. He took another step back, towards the door. „I’m fucking  _ done!  _ You got me?  _ Done!  _ Galen’s made me a racer, I’m gonna sleep in the kennels at the racetrack from now on! You can tell Al if he wants me to go on training his leg, he’s gotta meet me down there, ‘cause I’m not coming back here!“ 

Burke grabbed the door handle. It moved, it wasn’t locked, thank god, he didn’t know what he would’ve done if it had been locked. He yanked the door open. „Get your shit together, Zana. Just... get it together!“

He turned and fled, not daring to look back.

* * *

 

For the next few days, Zana buried herself in Felga’s notes; she didn’t exchange more than five words with Galen, and not a single one with Peet, mostly because Peet made true on his threat and didn’t turn up at the inn anymore. Ironically, the person she spoke most with was Alan, even if it was only to tell him to reheat her tea. She felt a growing urge to share what she learned from Felga’s notes, but the content of those scrolls was so heartbreaking that she couldn’t bring herself to tell Alan about it.

She was more and more convinced that Vilam had killed Felga; not only had she uncovered most of his abusive treatment of the humans in his care, that very abuse also illustrated the brutality of the man. He was  _ able _ to kill in cold blood; he had done so often enough before. And if his motivation was pressing enough, well, it wasn’t such a big step from killing a human to killing an ape.

The only problem was that animal abuse didn’t count as a big enough motive. Felga had denounced the killings often enough in her articles, but the reaction of the paper’s readership had been muted. People loved the sport too much to be willing to shun it for the sake of some humans that failed to win.

She needed to talk this over with someone... but the humans were out of the question, and Galen thought she was only concerning herself with the case to have a pretense for meeting Rogan. Zana pressed her lips together and carefully arranged the scrolls in Morla’s crate. She should take it to Rogan - the scrolls were evidence, after all.

But that would only fuel Galen’s paranoia. Ever since their fight, he had used Peet’s empty cot. He demonstratively preferred sleeping in the humans’ den to sleeping in their own bed - his way of shouting at her without having to address her.

No, Zana needed someone else to brainstorm with; someone who was more open to the idea that Vilam had reason to kill Felga - more reason than everybody else.

Halda was in a meeting with a potential customer, Zana was told when she arrived at the shelter; would it be alright if she waited a moment in the corridor?

Life went on, Zana mused as she slowly wandered up and down the corridor, peeking absently at the photographs on the walls. Halda didn’t have the luxury to grieve over Felga’s death anymore: the shelter had to survive, the humans had to be fed, bills had to be paid, and new customers had to be won.

_ In a way, she’s in the same situation as I: we have to keep moving, we can’t lose our momentum. _

She stopped before a photograph with Felga and Halda on it. The women were surrounded by humans that were looking shy and solemn. In the background loomed the skeleton of one of the workhouses. The photo had been made to document the topping out ceremony; it had most likely illustrated one of Felga’s articles. It was so unexpected to suddenly see her again, alive and smiling.

_ I could’ve had a wonderful friend... _

Loud voices shook her out of her reverie. Zana wandered to the door of the office and peeked through the glass panel.

Halda was standing behind her desk, looking embattled and even smaller than usual. Another ape was towering over her, yelling at her. Zana hovered at the door, unsure whether she should barge in and come to Halda’s rescue. It would at least distract the man for a moment.

“... ridiculous price! The material, the design, the production -  _ nothing  _ justifies the sum you want! I’d have to sell it at an even higher price that nobody,  _ nobody  _ will pay! So don’t tell me that  _ this _ is the set value for the other traders! You just pulled that out of your scrawny ass...“

Zana pushed the door open. „Halda! I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were in a meeting!“

„Alta!“ Halda was visibly relieved. „Come in, we were done anyway. Mezzal knows the way out, isn’t that right, sir?“

But Mezzal wasn’t done with Halda yet. „You’re doing this on purpose! You’re keeping me locked out of the market here, but I won’t stand for that! It’s a free country!“

„You’re right, sir,“ Zana cut in. „And that means Halda is free to do business with whoever she chooses.“

The ape turned around and glared at her. He was tall and burly, and wearing too much fur for the season. He looked as if he was dressing up as a huntsman out of a fairy tale. „Unless she’s supporting a monopoly,“ he growled. „We’re not done talking, lady,“ he added to Halda. „This’ll come back and bite you in the ass, mark my words!“

„What was  _ that _ all about?“ Zana wondered after he had stomped out.

Halda sank into her chair and waved for Zana to do the same. „Oh, he’s a, an  _ art trader -  _ or so he told me. He wanted to buy some of our sculptures, but he demanded a ridiculously low price for them. Maybe he thought I would give them to him for free, because they’re made by humans.“

Zana gently closed the door and took a seat across from Halda. „It says ‘genuine  _ simian  _ art’ on the bottom...“

„Well, yes, the  _ design _ is simian, but you can’t ask an ape to carve the same sculpture over and over again, day in, day out.“ Halda nervously tugged at her scarf, then at the scrolls in front of her. „It’s so nice of you to come over for a visit! Felga had told me that you’re also campaigning for human protection laws...“

„I’m all for protecting humans from simian abuse, yes,“ Zana said uncomfortably. It wasn’t as if she had much opportunity for outright activism. She could only set an example by how she was treating her own humans.

... and Felga hadn’t been too impressed by that, in the end.

„So, what brings you here?“ Halda interrupted Zana’s musings.

„I found some of Felga’s notes.“ Zana stopped when she saw Halda’s stare. „I’m sorry, if it’s too soon... if it hurts you too much to talk about her...“

„No... no.“ Halda rubbed her nose and pushed away from the desk. „I’m glad you’re still trying to find out who really did it.“ She went to the tea oven and poured fresh water into the kettle.

„None of the people here would bother to look into it,“ she said over her shoulder to Zana. „Every time I have to go to the market, I see the platform, and I think of poor Levar, and I want to cry.“ She set down the kettle on the stove, and put more wood on the fire.

„Did you find something in her notes?“ she asked when she returned to the desk. „Where  _ did _ you find them? I thought the police had confiscated everything?“

„Her mother gave them to me,“ Zana said. „She had forgotten about them when the police turned up the first time... she was too overwhelmed by grief.“

„Understandable,“ Halda sighed. „Everyone was. Well, everyone who was on Felga’s side,“ she amended.

„She made a lot of enemies,“ Zana admitted. „But I found lots of notes concerning a kennel owner called Vilam.“

Halda raked her hands through her hair. „Oh,  _ that _ terrible man,“ she muttered. „They are all terrible,“ she continued after a moment, „but Vilam takes the cake.“

„So I gathered,“ Zana said dryly.

„Have you told the police yet?“ Halda wanted to know. Zana shook her head.

„All I have is material that documents how he was abusing his humans, and some illegal practices against other kennels,“ she said, and silently added,  _ especially Levar’s,  _ „but it doesn’t prove that he killed Felga. And he has an alibi.“ She told Halda about her encounter with Olman.

„Olman.“ Halda pressed her lips together, but didn’t elaborate.

„Morla told me a bit about their problems with him,” Zana said. „Do you know if Felga went to see him on that day? Did she tell you anything - did you even see her at all, that day?”

The sun had already been setting when Felga had caught her on the market; Zana’s fur still bristled with embarrassment when she recalled that encounter. Some time between dusk and dawn, someone had put an end to Felga’s life. It had only been a few  _ atseht -  _ it  _ had _ to be possible to reconstruct Felga’s path to her own demise!

„No,” Halda said sadly. „She had wanted to come and see me for something, so I stayed here for a while, but she didn’t turn up, and I went home eventually - I have two small children who were waiting for their evening meal, you know?”

„I met them when Felga showed me around here,” Zana smiled. „Truly lovely children, Halda.” 

She dug into her handbag and pulled out a scroll. „I was wondering if you could explain something else to me.“ She had begun to take notes herself, to keep track of everything. Zana didn’t know if she should feel embarrassed about it - it was as if she was pretending to be a guard.

„Felga mentioned something called  _ Blaze  _ in her notes _ ,“  _ she said, opening her scroll. „Apparently, Vilam was using it on his own racers as well as on competing racers, and I can’t imagine why he’d do that - as far as I could tell from her notes,  _ Blaze  _ is something like a medicinal herb to enhance the racers’ performance? Why would he want to enhance the performance of the competition?“

„He doesn’t,“ Halda muttered. „Oh, this cursed stuff is used by many apes, but it’s highly illegal - maybe that is why you haven’t heard of it.“ She stood up to quickly spoon tea leaves into a small teapot, then poured the boiling water over it. On her way back to Zana, she picked up a thick scroll.

„This is Horny Goat Weed,“ she said, and turned the opened scroll around to show her the picture. „It grows wild in the mountains, and it’s harvested, and dried, and sold from here to the Southern coasts. It’s a... a herb for, for... marital ailments.“

That was a gracious way to put it, Zana thought, amused, but she just nodded her understanding.

„And in that form, it  _ is  _ legal,“ Halda continued. „And it’s meant to be used for apes, and apes only, and only on prescription. But of course a lot of apes also take it for... for recreational purposes. But that’s not the worst.“ She rolled up the scroll and fell back into her chair.

_ „Blaze _ is a drug that is extracted from the weed. And of course it is much more potent than the herb itself.“ She sighed. „A lot of breeders use it for their humans, when they are... unable to perform. Or unwilling. It’s very... invigorating. And then someone found out that when you give it to your human at a lower dose, it makes them run faster, recover more quickly, and able to run longer or more often.“ She shrugged. „Of course, its use is forbidden in a race. But if you pay the veterinarian enough...“

„Vilam seems very determined to win,“ Zana remarked, remembering Rogan’s story about him. „So he gave the drug to the other racers, and then tipped off the racing stewards that they had been doped?“

Halda huffed. „If only! That would’ve been outright  _ benevolent _ of him! No. You see, Alta, when you give the drug at a  _ higher _ dose, the human’s kidneys fail. It’s a very ugly death. And the human’s owner then has to fend off accusations that  _ he  _ had been trying to dope his human, and got the dosage wrong.“

„Levar mentioned to me that he had to hire security for his racers.“ Zana stared at Halda. „So that’s why...“

Halda nodded. „Vilam hated Levar, it was like an obsession. He wanted to destroy him, his kennel, everything. But I’m absolutely sure that he wouldn’t have been able to do it by framing Levar for Felga’s murder, all by himself, or he’d have done it years before.“

„What do you mean?“ Zana whispered.

Halda leaned forward. „Haven’t you wondered how Vilam got his hands on so much  _ Blaze?“ _


	13. Chapter 13

When Virdon showed up at the racetrack, the kennels were already empty; the racers were out on the track for their morning workout, he was told.

For a moment, he stood in the sunny patch between the kennels - small log cabins that looked like vacation homes, save for the barred windows, and the doors that could only be locked from the outside - and couldn’t decide if he wanted to sit down on the steps to Burke’s... cabin, or if he wanted to drag his bad leg over to the tracks.

In the end, he opted for the tracks. The kennels made him restless, no matter how often he called them ‘cabins’ in his head. The distance wasn’t too great, and it was a nice walk under the trees, down a sandy, sun-spotted path that was flanked by freshly mown lawn on both sides.

The racers were on the far side of the field, only going for short sprints that never led them around the turn and closer towards him, but they’d have to pass him on their way back to the kennels, so Virdon leaned against the white railing and just watched. He couldn’t make out Burke from this distance - the racers were all wearing uniform gray training silks.

He wondered how his friend was dealing with the fact that he was sleeping in what was basically a cage every night now. Ever since they had rescued Burke from Urko’s hands, the major had been unable to tolerate confined spaces - in the beginning, he hadn’t even been able to sleep inside the wagon. Unless it rained - then it had been a battle between his claustrophobia and his panic attacks when his face got wet. Another souvenir from Urko, this one from the gorilla’s version of waterboarding.

Burke never said a word about his problems, the insomnia, the nightmares, the panic attacks; he just dealt with them, silently, stubbornly, and Virdon had no idea how to break the subject without appearing intrusive or overbearing.

Until now.

Pete’s latest breakdown, his decision to avoid their group and rather sleep in an environment that blatantly treated him as nothing more than an animal, had convinced Virdon that it was time for an intervention. Maybe it was long overdue; maybe he had neglected his duty of care for his subordinate because he had been too wrapped up in his own medical problems... and his own homesickness.

_I’m sorry, Pete. I should’ve acted much sooner._

„Are you waiting for someone?“

The voice was a friendly croak, from a throat that had been abused by too much alcohol, and too much tobacco, for too many years.

Virdon turned around and found himself face to face with an old, weathered chimpanzee. The ape was wearing a battered robe that hadn’t seen a washboard for some time, but his stance was relaxed and non-threatening. He probably really just wanted to chat.

„I’m waiting for my friend to finish his morning workout, sir,“ Virdon said politely. It was always a good idea to be extra polite with unknown apes.

The old face lit up. „Liquid Fire?“

„That’s... that’s his racing name, yes.“ It still felt ridiculous to hear Pete referred to by a name that rightfully belonged to a horse, or a dog.

Until he remembered that this was exactly what Burke was to these people.

The ape smiled a toothless smile. „What a boy! I saw him run in the last race, such a fighter! I lost a bit of money because of him,“ he added confidentially, „I had placed my bet on Dark Intentions. I wouldn’t have won much - everyone always bets on Dark Intentions, unless they’re feeling adventurous.“ He leaned against the railing and stared across the lawn to where the racers had taken up position for yet another sprint.

„I’ve been betting in these races since I was a boy,“ he continued. „I know every single racer from every single kennel.“ He tipped his finger at his temple. „I remember them all. Makes it easy to place my bets, unless they throw in a wildcard.“ He laughed. „But that’s alright, keeps it interesting.“

Virdon found himself relaxing as he listened to the old ape’s chatter. For all his attitude towards humans, which wasn’t in the least bit different from the attitude of every other ape around here, he couldn’t feel any malicious intent in the chimp. This guy was simply happy that he had found an audience that didn’t have the right to cut him off and leave. Virdon shrugged internally, and settled against the railing again, listening with half an ear while he waited for Burke to finish his workout.

„I already won a bit of money with Dark Intention’s sire, Made To Win,“ the chimp was reminiscing. „That was a great racer, true to his name! Always liked to run from behind the field and then pull ahead in the home stretch. That one knew how to give a great performance, always such spectacular wins.“ The ape dug out a pipe and a pouch of tobacco, and began to pack his pipe.

„I think he was younger than your friend when he retired,“ he continued, and lit his pipe. „Went on to make lots and lots of little racers, most of them were sold off to the South, ‘s far as I heard. For fantastic prices, too - that mansion on the hill? That’s all built from the auction proceeds.“

Virdon ducked his head and chewed on the inside of his lip, wishing to be on the other side of the racing ground by now. Even though this old ape wasn’t talking about him, nor about Pete, he felt nauseous.

The chimp sighed, and pointed his pipe at the racers. „Too bad they discovered his talent too late. But maybe he’ll sire some excellent offspring. That’s another gamble - you never know if a good athlete is also a good sire.“ He turned his head and let his gaze wander over Virdon. „What about you?“

Virdon stiffened. „What about me?“

„Well, they can’t test your potential, with that injury,“ the ape murmured, „and you’re a bit more heavily built than Liquid Fire... but not too heavy... and you have long limbs...“

Virdon cleared his throat and tried to keep his features under control. „I’m not a racer. Never have been.“

„Ah, all humans are, more or less,“ the ape chuckled, and sucked on his pipe. „You know the saying: ‘Fish swims, bird flies, human runs’. Did you know that man is the only animal that can outrun every other animal in the world? They just run and run and run, until the animal drops dead from exhaustion. In the beginning, they’d let the humans just run around the track until all but one had dropped. But Cesar, that took so long that by the time they had a winner, everyone had long gone home!“ He laughed. „Nobody had the patience to wait around until the humans had run their course, so today, we only have the sprint races. Your friend will run the Tassel Valley race in two days, too?“

„So I’ve heard,“ Virdon murmured. Galen had nominated Burke, again without asking him.

„If he makes at least third place, he’ll be eligible for the nomination in the big race,“ the chimp said. „If he makes first place in the Tassel race, I’ll bet on him in the big one - he’ll have a massive overlay by then. Maybe I can retire then, huh?“ He good-naturedly slapped Virdon’s back. Virdon forced himself to smile politely.

„It’ll be great,“ the ape gushed. „They have a big band, and Olman has his humans serving as waiters, so nobody has to stand in line for half a day just to get a sandwich and a mug of cider, and before the races begin, there’s this big parade. And the winning ceremony, of course. The champions are all prettied up, with ribbons an’ all, and then they make photos for anyone who wants a souvenir.“

Virdon tried to tune out the old ape’s prattle, but found it impossible; the croaky voice was piercing his right ear and went straight into his brain. “... I have a photo from every year since I started going to the races as a little boy. At first, my father would pay for the photos, of course, but when I started working for Tall Timber, I bought them myself, and the miniature trophies, too. I have a complete collection; there was this ape from the South, he offered me a nice sum for it, but I said no sir, it’s not for sale. It has sentimental value, you know? All those memories...“

The racers were breaking up, a part of them leaving for some unknown destination on the far side of the field, the rest jogging over to where he was standing. Burke was slowly walking towards them, too; Virdon straightened, and pushed away from the railing.

„It was nice talking to you, sir,“ he lied, „but I need to take care of my friend now.“

„Yes, I heard your owner fired his trainer, for cheating him out of his money,“ the chimp nodded.

Virdon rubbed his neck; he had noticed that Galen had fired Marpo, but both Galen and Burke had been tight-lipped about the reason. „Well, I can’t talk behind my master’s back about these things...“

The ape made a dismissive gesture. „Don’t worry, boy, I’m not trying to pump you for information. Everyone knows that ol’ Marpo was gettin’ too greedy and started a little side hustling behind your master’s back. The idiot - I bet whatever he got for mating fees won’t make up half of what he could’ve gotten as share in the prize money if that boy wins the big race.“

Virdon kept his face expressionless, but he felt his lips beginning to prickle as cold fury crept into him.

Mating fees.

„You alright?“ Burke had come to a halt at a safe distance away from the old chimp, and was watching Virdon with a slight frown.

Virdon clenched his jaw and forced himself to smile. „I was just waiting for you to finish your workout, so we can start with mine.“

„Okay,“ Burke said slowly, still watching him.

Virdon turned to the ape, resisting the urge to strangle the old fool. „If you’d excuse us, sir... but we have to work now.“ He grabbed Burke by the arm and began to limp away from the chimp as fast as possible.

Burke let himself get dragged along, craning his neck to throw a last glance at the smoking ape. „Did ol’ Tovar chew your ear off? You can just ignore him, you know? Just walk away, he’ll get the memo, he’s not one to follow you around.“

„I don’t mind getting chatted up by the old drunkard,“ Virdon said grimly. „It was very... educational. I learned a lot about racing.“

Mating fees.

Did Pete even know what had happened? Or was he still blissfully unaware, believing that it was his charm and good looks that had attracted the women, just like it had been back home?

„You didn’t come down here just for Tai Chi, Al, right?“ Burke pulled his arm away and narrowed his eyes. „What’s up?“

Virdon drew a deep breath and forced himself to meet his friend’s wary eyes.

„Nothing’s up,“ he said. „I’m here for my Tai Chi lesson. Shall we begin?“

* * *

One of the many peculiarities of growing up among Orangutans - and Zana still couldn’t decide if it was an advantage or a disadvantage - was the decided lack of dinner parties, receptions, or other instances of social mingling. Orangutans didn’t mingle; they were notoriously solitary creatures, who only took up the burden of governmental work - with all its meetings in and outside of Council sessions - out of a deep sense of duty towards apekind. Even married couples didn’t live together - the men and women kept their separate apartments, the children living with their mothers and only visiting their fathers at pre-planned occasions.

As a result, Zana had had a hard time with staff meetings, back at the institute. Although her Chimp nature made her more socially-minded than an Orangutan, her childhood upbringing hadn’t given her the necessary skills to navigate these events gracefully.

At least she never _felt_ graceful on such occasions.

„Was it really necessary that I come, too?“ she whispered to Galen who, she noticed with a stab of envy, seemed to be totally at ease here. No wonder - as the son of a Councillor, he had probably attended hundreds of these events.

Galen didn’t look at her - he was watching the assembled crowd of Chimps: stable owners, trainers, sponsors... They had all been invited for hors d'oeuvres, wine, and a tour of the Three Valleys Racing stadium that had ended in front of a big map detailing the planned expansion of the stadium, big enough to encompass the entire back wall of the clubhouse. Olman was the main sponsor of the whole racing industry in the southern mountains; his timber company made big money by supplying both the steel industry in the western mountains, and almost every construction company in the wide swamp land of the southern plain, where trees didn’t grow above shrub size, or were otherwise unsuited for building houses. This pre-racing reception had been his idea.

Zana gripped her wine glass, wishing to be anywhere but here; Galen popped a cheese-and-grape thingie into his mouth and bounced on the balls of his feet.

„Why?“ he murmured back. „Do you have an appointment at that tavern?“

Zana suppressed a sigh and sipped at her wine. If Galen insisted on being like that, it was no use staying by his side; he’d either ignore her, or make little murmured snide remarks, and she was feeling out of her depth here even without that. And if he managed to make her cry in the bathroom, she wouldn’t be able to forgive him, ever.

She invoked that bathroom as an excuse to leave, and began to slowly make her rounds through the crowd, smiling faintly at anyone who caught her gaze. Most of the other guests ignored her completely, though - well, Peet had cost their racers two wins in a row, and a nice sum of money. Since owners and trainers weren’t allowed to bet, the prize money was one of their main sources of income. If a kennel didn’t win a sufficient number of races, the prices for its cubs would also fall, and the whole enterprise could quickly spiral into bankruptcy.

No, none of these people had reason to make nice small talk with her. If anything, they’d talk _about_ her, or rather, about Faro and his „wildcard wonder,“ as she had heard someone refer to Peet, and that was a notoriety she didn’t care for. _Whatever happened to our agreed strategy to stay inconspicuous, at least until we crossed the mountains, Galen? Are you so starved for privilege and recognition that you couldn’t wait to make a name for yourself until you were out of Urko’s reach?_

They would have to leave immediately after the big race. They simply couldn’t afford to stay any longer, and allow the gossip trickling South to reach Urko, or Nelva. Zana didn’t know what annoyed her more - that she might have been unable to prove Levar’s innocence by then, or that she had been unable to stop Galen from lighting a fresh beacon for Urko here.

Right now, though, she felt annoyed at him for dragging her here and then abandoning her. She put the glass to her lips, discovered that it was already empty, and exchanged it for another one from the tray of one of the many human waiters weaving through the crowd of Chimps. What an irony - Felga had been fighting for the townspeople to accept humans in functions other than woodcutters or racers, and almost had her tea house burnt down for her troubles, and here they were absently plucking wine glasses and snacks from the trays that Olman’s humans were carrying, without batting an eye.

_Hypocrites._

„Alta. I hope you’re enjoying yourself?“

Zana took a hasty sip from her wineglass to get her face under control, and turned to Olman with a bright smile. „Olman! Yes, I’m... this is all very fascinating. I’ve never been on a racing party before. Well...“ She giggled. „I’ve never owned a racer before, either.“

Olman’s eyes crinkled as he smiled at her. He wore a robe made of fine, blue-gray wool that Zana bet had cost a fortune, and had probably been brought up here from the City, or even one of the southern towns that specialized in producing fine textiles. „You certainly had a lucky hand in selecting your human. Do you have any plans for it after the big race?“

Zana took another sip from her glass to buy time. She was absolutely certain that the 'big race' would be Peet’s last; she’d make sure of that. He hadn’t been exactly stable ever since they had snatched him from Urko, and being treated like a commodity, a thing without intelligence or feelings, had sharply deteriorated his mental state. That latest outburst of his had shocked her. „We’ll retire him,“ she said. „Everyone agrees that he’s actually too old to start a racing career. He’ll have three good runs, and we’ll have three good stories to tell.“

„And maybe three nice sums of money to carry home,“ Olman added with a smile. „But it would be a shame not to exploit its potential.“

„He’s not for sale,“ Zana clarified.

„Ah.“ Olman sipped at his glass. „Maybe you’ll talk this over with your husband first, before you close the door to that deal for good. I’d pay you a nice sum - nicer even than that prize money, should you win.“

„My husband and I are agreed on this matter,“ Zana said, and carefully kept smiling, although the muscles in her face seemed to have frozen on their bones.

„I don’t want to rain on your parade,“ Olman said fatherly, „but breeding involves more than just putting a male and a female into a cage together. You need to select your matches carefully, and frankly, you and Faro are amateurs. Incredibly lucky amateurs, which makes it doubly painful for me to see Liquid Fire’s potential wasted.“

„Oh, I think I picked up some things here and there,“ Zana said breezily, „like supporting the males’ staying power with... herbs... for example.“

Olman’s gaze was suddenly piercing. „If you don’t know what you’re doing there, this can get dangerous for your human very quickly.“

„Especially when you’re not using the herb, but a herbal extract,“ Zana nodded, holding his gaze. „Yes, I’ve heard that some humans were killed that way. Although they weren’t in a breeding program at the time.“

„Really? Where did you hear that?“ Olman wasn’t smiling anymore, although he didn’t exactly look worried. Zana regarded him for a moment.

„Felga told me about _Blaze_ before she was murdered,“ she said. „The way it’s poured into the poor creatures, there seems to be an inexhaustible supply, which is amazing when you consider how much goat weed you need to produce a tiny flask of _Blaze_. One could think it’s being cultivated like cabbage here... but of course that’s nonsense.“ She produced a small, completely artificial sounding laugh. „Everyone knows Sapan and the surrounding valleys aren’t farming communities. It’s all mountains and forests here.“ She smiled at Olman, and this time, she made sure her smile was blatantly suggestive. „It’s all about the timber, right?“

Olman’s gaze was distant all of a sudden. „Ah yes, Felga. A very angry young woman. Of course you can’t know it - you’re not from around here -“ and now _his_ smile was suggestive, although Zana couldn’t say about what, „but Felga had held some long-standing grudges against certain members of this community. She blatantly made it about the humans, but humans were just the vehicle for her wrath. She had an axe to grind with Sapan, and she used the humans for that vendetta, just as I use the humans to fell the trees in the mountains.“ He emptied his glass, his eyes never leaving Zana’s face.

„And look where that has taken her,“ he continued. „Felga lit a fire that consumed her in the end. She saw that Tall Timber had opened a side branch in the medical sector - we’re the biggest supplier of Horny Goat Weed south of the Iron Mountains; perfectly legal, I might add - and twisted it into some lurid tale about force-mating and race fixing...“

„Interesting that you mention the race fixing,“ Zana cut in, „Felga had some pretty damning things to say about Vilam’s role in that - you know, that Vilam who had that ‘business meeting’ regarding the expansion of the stadium...“ She vaguely gestured to the giant map at the far wall.

„Oh, I have no doubts that she had,“ Olman said dryly. „But I’m a bit worried about you, my dear - you’re so young, so idealistic. Don’t think you have to pick up the torch that Felga carried. It would be a shame if Felga’s fervor would consume you like it consumed her, Alta...“ He leaned in with a conspiratorial smile.

“... if that is your name.“


	14. Chapter 14

If Burke ignored the fact that the apes locked the door to his cabin every night, and that there were bars in front of the only window, sleeping in the tiny cabin was actually really nice.

Okay, so he didn’t really sleep much, but that was the same no matter where he was. But when he closed his eyes, and just listened to the wind in the trees, and focused on the smell of fresh wood, he could pretend that he was back on Earth - _his_ Earth - on some fancy holiday in the Appalachians, and there would be fresh coffee in the morning, and pancakes, and...

In reality, they were fed gruel.

In reality, they were shaken awake - not he, he was always awake long before that - by apes rattling the locks at their doors while unlocking them, yanking the doors open, and shouting „Morning workout!“ into the cabin. He and the other racers assembled on the field for limbering up and doing stretches, and then the trainers called their racers to them, and they’d disperse over the track, in neat little packs, and start doing sprints, while the trainers simultaneously bellowed commands and tried to sneak peeks on how the competition was doing.

The teams had arrived, one by one, about two weeks before the big race, and their routines were only meant to keep them at their peak level while they were settling in. Burke had learned that one team had been traveling for almost a month; the stadium provided the cabins and the daily training times to prevent appeals that the local teams had an unfair advantage over the travel-weary foreign racers. Everyone was given the opportunity to recover from their arduous journey, and get familiar with the track.

Burke was a pack of one, and his own trainer, and contrary to the competition, he was not at his peak level. As he had told Zana, he had been running long distances back home, and that training was different from that of a sprinter; so he found himself in the ironic situation of having to use Marpo’s routine now, which meant he was inevitably thinking about Marpo every morning.

If he hadn’t already been frazzled by his latest nightmare, contemplating Marpo made sure his mood never lifted above ground level. Burke noticed that it slowed him down, made his posture sag, and glued his gaze to the ground. He tried to shake it off; but when he looked up, he met the calculating looks of the trainers - all chimps - and quickly cast down his eyes again. If he had to train here, under the scrutinizing glares of the apes, he at least didn’t want to see them.

Burke knew that he should fix his eyes on the horizon, or at least on the finish line; Marpo had hammered that wisdom into his head, with the enthusiastic assistance of his riding crop. The memory yanked his head down once again, and his eyes were scanning the ground, the way they shouldn’t...

... and that was how he saw the wire.

He only saw it at the very last moment, a thin line stretching across the track, only a few inches above ground. He saw it too late to stop, too late to jump over it; the only thing he could do was to shift his center of gravity forward, bracing himself with his hands, and rolling forward over his shoulder, like he had done when the other racer had knocked him down during his first race.

The dive saved his right foot from being cut off at the joint, but the wire still bit into its bridge like a knife. Burke sat up and inspected the damage.

Blood was running over his foot and soaking between his toes. The edges of the cut were clean, but gaping so far apart that it was clear the blood wouldn’t stop on its own. Galen would have to stitch the wound.

_Fuck._

At least the rapidly flowing blood would flush out any germs that had clung to the wire. Burke scowled at the damn thing. It hadn’t gleamed in the morning light, or he’d have seen it in time. With his luck, it was probably rusty. Good thing he’d been given his tetanus shot before liftoff; he had heard that it was good for at least ten years.

He gingerly crooked his toes. _And now for the real test..._ He cautiously stretched them again, and sighed a relieved breath when they followed his will. At least the tendons were still intact.

But the cut was still bleeding like hell, and he had nothing to bandage it, so that he could at least limp to the inn... but Galen wouldn’t be there anyway, he’d be in one of the pubs. Burke felt completely disinclined to limp through all the pubs with his bloody foot to search for the chimp.

_A fine master you are, master._

Fuck this, he’d find Al, and Al would get Galen, and Galen would stitch him up, and hopefully admit that there was no way in hell he’d be able to run that damn race, let alone win it.

He slowly came to his feet and gingerly climbed over the wire. That thing wasn’t there by accident. Someone had observed which part of the track he had claimed for his morning workouts, and had prepared it for him. Probably one of the trainers; apes were the only ones who could move freely outside the training hours. The humans were shut in after breakfast, and only let out for the training sessions.

That... was the other detail he worked hard to ignore.

Burke limped back towards his cabin... his _cage,_ dammit, no use denying it. He had clean bandages there, and after he had wrapped up his foot as tightly as possible, he sneaked off the racing area before the stewards could lock him in again. His foot was throbbing by the time he turned up at the inn, the bandage soaked.

To his surprise, Galen was there, looking tired and hungover. Burke pondered commenting on Galen’s cider consumption, but decided against it. That ape was about to go at him with needle and thread - no need to aggravate him.

Galen flicked a glance at the bloody bandage, cursed, and led him up to their rooms, where he sat him down at the table and had him put his foot on one of the other chairs. „How did that happen?“

„Someone prepared the track for me.“ Burke quickly filled him in.

„This needs stitches,“ Galen murmured after unwrapping his foot.

„Figured it would.“ Burke watched him get his doctor’s bag and throw two needles, a generous length of silk thread, and some other instruments into a pot with hot water that was already simmering on the stove. For all his cold and arrogant demeanour lately, Galen was still a damn good surgeon, one of the few who stuck to basic measures of hygiene. Burke was reasonably sure that he’d survive this injury without getting gangrene. You learned to be grateful for a lot of things here.

„Thing is,“ Burke continued, after Galen had returned to the table, „I can’t run with that foot _shitGalenwhatthefuck?“_

Galen had taken a metal stick and was poking into his foot. The pain was so intense that Burke had to grab the edge of the table to prevent himself from grabbing Galen’s throat.

„I have to see if the tendons are injured,“ Galen said evenly, but he put the probe away.

„You could’ve fucking _asked_ me! I can stretch my toes, everything’s a-okay with my tendons! Jesus!“ Burke consciously loosened his grip on the tabletop.

„That’s good to know.“ Galen rose and went to take the pot from the stove where his needles and silk threads had been boiling. „It means that you will be able to run that race.“

„Thank you for your concern,” Burke muttered.

Galen sat down at the table again, needle in hand. „We have no other choice at this point. The money from your woodcutting employment is sorely missing.“

„Maybe you shouldn’t have taken me out of the camp then,“ Burke muttered.

Galen made his first stitch, and Burke held his breath. Galen, his eyes fixed on the bleeding mess before him, didn’t notice.

„Perhaps,“ the chimp murmured, „but I was worried for your safety. Marpo and I didn’t exactly leave on good terms.“

„Maybe the wire was his idea of payback,“ Burke suggested.

Galen waggled his head and made the second stitch. „Maybe. Or maybe it was Vilam... a kennel owner who is notorious for taking out the competition before they can outrun his racers. Maybe it was one of the other kennel owners. One of the trainers. A racing enthusiast who has placed his bet on one of the other racers.“ He looked up at Burke, a wry smile playing on his lips. „I’m afraid the possibilities are nearly endless.“

Galen was right, Burke silently agreed. The term ‘cut-throat competition’ didn’t nearly begin to...

He sat up straighter. If that wire had been stretched a bit higher above the track, and he’d run into it, he could’ve cut his own throat. Still could - there was no reason that whoever had tried to trip him up wouldn’t try a second time, once they saw he was still training.

_So... am I still training?_

He leaned back and watched Galen stitch up the cut, clean it with some tincture that burned like acid, and bandage his foot, all the while trying to decide if he should go on strike or not. He hadn’t been asked even once if he wanted to run; and now he had the best argument for bowing out of the whole damn thing that he could wish for.

But that would mean that Al had to sew even more of the damn tool belts and saddle bags, and the poor guy was already sitting over his leatherwork from sunrise to sunset. He only got out when they were doing Tai Chi, and one time, had remarked how good the exercises were for his _back._ His back, not his leg.

He still didn't want to run for the damn monkeys. But he couldn’t do this to Al.

„I’m gonna run cross country from now on,“ Burke said. „Uphill sprints are the best training anyway. Out there, I can change my route every day - that’ll make it impossible for whoever stretched that wire to prepare a track for me again.“

Galen pursed his lips, and nodded. „I’ll talk to the stewards not to lock you in anymore,“ he said. „That way, you can move freely in and out of the stadium.” The ape leaned back in his seat and regarded him for a moment, and Burke thought he could see a trace of worry in his face.

Or maybe he was just imagining things. Galen was probably just worried about the money that was now in jeopardy.

„Do be careful, Peet,“ Galen said finally. „I don’t think Alan could handle it if something happened to you. Neither could Zana.“ He turned away and began to pick up the bloody bandage and the used cotton swabs. „And I would greatly regret it, too.“

Burke chewed on the inside of his lip and gingerly set his bandaged foot on the floor. He didn’t know what to say. That last bit had been… unexpected, to say the least. Maybe… maybe Galen felt a bit guilty that he had given him into Marpo’s hands…

_Sure. Go on telling yourself he gives a damn about you._

„Yeah, I’d regret that, too,“ he said finally.

Galen just shook his head. „Don’t run for two days, at least. You still have another quartermoon until the race starts. Let it knit up a bit, and always bandage the foot tightly once you start moving it again. You were lucky that the cut isn’t across the joint.“ He rose to throw the bloodied tissues into the trash. „It would perhaps be prudent not to say anything about that incident to Zana. It would just unsettle her.“

Burke barely managed not to scoff. _Sure, Galen. Wouldn’t want to unsettle the one person who was against running me like a racehorse._

Aloud, he just said, „I’ll leave that to you. I’m not seeing much of Zana right now anyway.“

Galen just stared out of the window without reacting to that; and after a moment of uncomfortable silence, Burke decided to leave him to his thoughts. It was only as he was closing the door that he heard Galen mutter something.

„I’m not seeing much of her anymore, either.“

* * *

„You accused Olman of smuggling _Blaze?_ Are you out of your mind?“

Zana dropped the crate with Felga’s notes on Rogan’s table with a louder bang than she had intended. From the neighbouring desk, Junior looked up and glared at her with his typical deadpan expression.

She turned her back to him.

From his seat, Rogan was still gaping at her. „I didn’t accuse him of smuggling anything,“ Zana protested, just as she had done in her head half the night and all morning ever since the timber tycoon had let her know - not too subtly, either - that he was now looking into all of their assumed identities. „I merely mentioned that _if_ someone wanted to produce great amounts of _Blaze,_ they’d find ideal conditions in the woods where Tall Timber is milling about all summer...“

And that had been enough to incite Olman’s wrath, and now _he_ was sniffing out _her_ secrets, and if she didn’t act quickly, he would nail her (and Galen, and her humans, and _Mothers,_ she _had_ been out of her mind) quicker than she could nail him.

„You did accuse him of cooking _Blaze_ right under my nose,“ Rogan said dryly. „Thank you for that declaration of trust in the town guard’s ability and dedication to upholding the law.“

„Honor where honor is due,“ Zana said pointedly, and sat down. „Where do _you_ think Vilam gets his supply for killing off the competition?“

Rogan splayed his fingers and smiled frostily. „And how do you know that Vilam did such a thing?“

Zana gestured at the crate. „It’s all in there.“

The constable flicked a glance at it. „Let me guess - Felga’s notes.“

„She did investigate the goings-on at the races,“ Zana argued. „And she collected a lot of witness statements...“

„Alta.“ Rogan sounded tired. „Unless those witnesses make those statements to an officer of the watch, and later to a judge, they are nothing but gossip that Felga collected. Granted, she was very good at collecting gossip and turning it into sensational stories for her paper. That was her _job._ But it’s nothing that has any bearing on her murder case.“

„She was investigating Vilam, specifically,“ Zana insisted. „And she uncovered a lot of illegal activities - things that would’ve _ruined_ him financially. I learned that he was already struggling anyway, ever since Levar’s racers had started winning almost every race. Don’t tell me money isn’t a strong motive. Or freedom, because once Felga would’ve taken this to court, he’d have been in jail for illegal possession and use of _Blaze,_ and for fixing races...“

„Yes, he had good reasons to hate Felga,“ Rogan interrupted her. „Almost everyone had, in this town. I know you doted on her for some reason, but believe me, Felga had a talent for alienating people. I never understood why Halda stayed so doggedly at her side, I always thought she maybe profited somehow from her... but that’s beside the point. There’s one thing you need to understand.“ He leaned forward and locked eyes with her.

„Motive is... _suggestive._ Without a motive, you don’t have a murder, you have a fatal accident. But motive isn’t evidence - a lot of people have reason to kill someone, but never do, thank Cesar. If you want to prove that someone committed a crime, you need to present physical clues.“ He leaned back in his seat. „Like that bandage that left a thread in the victim’s fur. Face it, Alta - I have evidence. All _you_ have,“ he gestured at the crate, „is hearsay.“

„I’m sure you’d find plenty of evidence against Vilam, if you only bothered to look for it,“ Zana countered, embarrassed at being dismissed so casually. „Felga wrote that he was threatening racers, trainers, even the racing stewards, for getting specific racers to win. And not even his own racers, which suggests that he did it for someone else. I find it odd that nobody seems to care much about that practice. It seems to defy the whole purpose of the sport.“

Rogan shifted in his seat. „Alright, I’ll go down to the stadium and have a look,“ he muttered. „But even if I find evidence that Vilam was fixing races, or killing off humans, that still won’t connect him to Felga’s death. He has an alibi, in case you’ve forgotten, and it has been confirmed by Olman’s staff.“

So he _had_ checked on Vilam’s alibi. Zana felt a tiny spark of satisfaction that Rogan had at least taken her seriously enough to do that much. „If Olman supplies Vilam with the drug, he’d have reason to give him an alibi,“ she said, determined not to let Vilam off the hook. „He wouldn’t want Vilam to spill the beans in exchange for a lighter sentence. So when you find the evidence, you might want to check that alibi again, because it’s the only thing that saves Vilam from suspicion.“

 _„If_ Olman supplies him with _Blaze,“_ Rogan repeated, a trace of exasperation in his voice. „And where is your evidence for _that?_ And before you lead me to a field of Horny Goat weed - he has a licence to cultivate and sell the herb to apothecaries and herbalists. It’s all perfectly legal.“

„Of course it is,“ Zana deadpanned. „And of course he’d never tolerate anyone else romping through his fields and stealing _tons_ of the herb he wants to sell, to cook _Blaze._ And with his company working in the woods almost year round, he’d also have no idea where in the wilderness they’d hide those drug cooking sites.“

„Right,“ Rogan said. He stared into the distance for a moment, chewing on his lip. „You know,“ he said abruptly, „I did a bit of investigating, too; since Felga and you were so successful with that activity, I thought I might try it myself.“ He smiled a little ironic smile at her. „And I did find something interesting. Did you know that Felga planned to sue Levar?“

Zana shook her head, too stunned to think of a comeback to Rogan’s needling about her attempt at investigating this case.

„She did,“ Rogan said, watching her face. „I saw the written complaint. If she had succeeded, Levar would’ve gone to jail, and would’ve lost his kennel over the damages. Guess who was planning on buying up his property?“

„Felga?“ Zana whispered.

Rogan shook his head and smiled. „Close. Her charity. What an irony, huh, to expand the shelter by repurposing a former kennel? But what’s even more interesting is the reason she sued him.“ He nodded towards the crate with the scrolls. „I’m a bit surprised that you didn’t find anything about it in her notes.“

„There wasn’t anything about Levar in Felga’s notes,“ Zana said numbly. „Not a single scroll.“

„Ah. Well. As you know, absence of evidence isn’t evidence of absence. What Felga intended to bring before the court,“ Rogan said, „was Levar’s use of _Blaze_ on his racers.“


	15. Chapter 15

It was already after dark when Zana returned to the inn; the days had become noticeably shorter now, even if the weather stayed mild and sunny. It wouldn’t stay that way much longer - Morla had warned her that the storm season would start soon, with heavy rains that threatened to drown the valleys every winter.

Right now, Zana thought that Sapan could use a little flushing out; what a snakepit!

When she pushed open the door to her room, she was surprised to find it shrouded in darkness. Of course Peet was still sleeping in his kennel at the racetrack... and she’d have to go and see him some time, and talk to him about his strange fit of temper... and Galen was, as always, circulating Sapan’s taverns. She stifled a sigh.

But Alan should be here, shouldn’t he? There was nowhere else to be for him, really, especially not at this time of the day, when all the kennels at the racetrack had already been locked.

Zana felt her way around the table and lit the lamp that was hanging from the ceiling. In the soft golden glow, she discovered Alan in his usual corner, his hands resting limply on the freshly cut leather parts that were sprawled over his lap. He was fast asleep.

She tiptoed over to him and studied his face for a moment. He had leaned back his head, propping it against the wall - just for a moment, to rest his eyes, she was sure; standing this close now, she even could hear his soft snore.

Strange how he was all that was left to her now. But Alan wasn’t the type to just give up on someone, and drift away. He held on to her as stubbornly as he held on to his family...

This was the man whose obsession to return to his child had cost the life of her own child. Zana tried to feel that truth as she was watching him sleep, but the feeling wouldn’t come. Maybe she was just too exhausted to feel anything.

Or maybe she simply was too embarrassed. Here she was, trying to make amends with a woman she had only known for a few days, a woman who was dead and would never - _could_ never correct her judgment of her; a woman who, as Zana had just learned, might not even deserve her remorse…

… while at the same time, Alan was showing her his regret every day. Alan, who she had known for almost a year now, his courage, his loyalty, his kindness. And she _was_ alive, able to forgive him.

And yet, she hadn’t.

She had always told Galen that it had been her own decision to follow the humans into their city, and that it had been her own fault, only hers, but somehow... somehow a part of her had preferred to blame Alan, and to be resentful towards him, instead of herself. But right now, it felt petty. She was trying to prove to a dead Felga that she was treating her humans with kindness and respect, and what was she actually doing?

She reached out to caress Alan’s face, then remembered Peet’s reaction and let her hand drop to her side without touching him. But something about that movement alerted the human nonetheless - instinct, perhaps - and he woke with a start, and stared up at her.

„Put that leather away,“ Zana said. „From now on, your workday ends at sunset.“

„Yes’m,“ Alan murmured and started to shift the leather from his legs.

„And don’t call me that when we’re alone.“ She went to the stove to set up some fresh water.

Alan prepared the tea, as always, but when he had filled her mug, she gestured for him to sit down across from her, and rose to get a second mug. He watched her as she put it before him on the table.

„I thought we could have tea together,“ Zana said as she sank into her chair. „It would be nice.“

Alan closed his hands around the mug, still watching her face. „The last time we ate together... or had tea,“ he said quietly, „was before Galen was required by Kanla, to cure that swamp fever.“

„Yes.“ Zana stared into her own mug. „It seems such a long time ago.“

The conversation died down; neither of them knew what to say.

Finally, Alan cleared his throat. „How are you now? Is... is the doctor’s treatment helping you at all?“

„Yes,“ Zana straightened in her chair, glad to have something to talk about. „He said he’s very happy with my progress, and that all that’s necessary for a complete recovery is that I continue with the teas and the herbal poultices. That’s something I could as well do on the road, so I... I thought of telling Galen that we should leave tomorrow.“

„Then Pete won’t run in the race,“ Alan pointed out.

„No.“ Zana took a sip from her tea. It was still too hot, burning the tip of her tongue. „But he didn’t want to run anyway. He hated it. And I should never have allowed it.“

Alan was still watching her, and his steady gaze was beginning to make her nervous. Zana took another sip from the too-hot tea. Her tongue was numb and tingling anyway.

„What’s changed?“ he wanted to know when she finally put her mug down. „You seem... unsettled. Why the hurry to leave, all of a sudden?“

For a moment, Zana felt an almost irresistible urge to tell the human not to question her decision. She didn’t want to explain herself, not to him, not to Galen...

Then she looked into his beautiful, blue eyes, and saw that he was worried, not wary. Not judging.

She drew a trembling breath. „I did something very stupid.“

And then she told him the whole story, of how Halda had convinced her that Levar was innocent, and how she had vowed to find the true murderer, and how she had managed to anger the most powerful ape south of the passes - an ape with connections that reached far to the South, back to the City; an ape who had hinted that he knew that Alta wasn’t her real name.

An ape who could alert Nelva. Or even Urko.

„We need to leave,“ she concluded with a slightly unsteady voice, „before either of them comes here, or sends word to Rogan to arrest us. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to endanger you all like that...“

Alan sighed deeply and took a deep draw from his mug.

„He might’ve just bluffed,“ he said when he had put down the mug again, and Zana clung to the calmness in his voice. „I mean, he has no reason to scare you off his scent if he’s above suspicion - and if he’s really doing some shady business, one that he doesn’t want you to expose, the last thing he’d want to do is to alert the police.“

She considered this for a moment. It was beautifully reassuring in its logic, but... „What if he knows people in the police force who are also not... quite... completely upstanding?“

Alan smiled wryly. „Dirty cops? But I thought apes were better than that. - Well, yes, that’s a possibility,“ he continued without giving her a chance to rebuke him for that remark. „But even then, letters need time to travel to the City and back - certainly longer than that week until the race is due. Pete told me he decided to run, so that we won’t have to worry about money until we’ve crossed the mountains.“

„Do you agree with Constable Rogan about Levar?“ Zana murmured, staring into the depths of her cup.

For a long while, Alan said nothing, so long that Zana finally did look up to meet his gaze. „I think,“ he said slowly, „that the location of the body was... unusual. I mean, how did that crime supposedly happen? Levar and Felga meet in his house, in secret; they talk; they fight over... maybe over that complaint she planned to bring to court; the fight gets out of control, he kills her, still inside his house.“

He paused for a moment, his eyes fixed on some point behind her shoulder. Then he blinked and looked at her. „And then he throws her body over his shoulder and carries her across the lawn until he reaches the kennels, and drops her there? Why in the world would he do that?“

„And why would he have a racer’s bandage lying around in his living room?“ Zana added, suddenly hopeful that she hadn’t been a complete fool before.

„On the other hand, you have nothing on either of _your_ two suspects, save for Felga’s notes,“ Alan cautioned her. „And I have to admit that your constable has a point here - it _is_ nothing but gossip, unless you find physical evidence that ties Vilam or Olman to Felga’s death.“

„He’s not _my_ constable,“ Zana muttered.

„Why are you so convinced that Felga’s death will go unpunished?“ Alan asked softly.

„You mean, ‘why did you insert yourself into a police investigation when you had no business doing so’?“ Zana corrected him, a bit more snippy than she had intended.

Alan raised his hands in a placating gesture. „Well... yes,“ he admitted. „You’ve taken an unusual interest in the death of a woman you barely knew.“

„Yes, I only knew her for a few days,“ Zana admitted. Her throat constricted, and to her horror, she felt tears pricking her eyes. She emptied her cup, fighting to regain her composure. She shouldn’t be so choked up about Felga. Alan was right - she had barely known her.

„But we had... we had a connection,“ she tried to explain. „We had the same outlook on... so many things. She was so, so full of energy, of optimism. And we could’ve become good friends. We _would_ have. I know it.“

„You were kindred spirits,“ Alan said gently. „I understand.“

„Yes.“ And now Zana could hear the tears in her voice, and it made her so _mad._ She didn’t _want_ to cry. „And then someone went and took that from her - that life. We could’ve stayed in contact, we could’ve written letters, and I could’ve invited her... she could’ve helped me organize a chapter of the Society wherever we would’ve settled.“ She angrily wiped at her eyes.

„And now it’s never going to happen. All those things that could’ve been... and it’s so _unfair!_ “ She propped her elbows on the table and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes as if she could force the tears back into her skull. She couldn’t breathe properly; her chest was constricting into a sob, and then another one, and then the grief just tore her off her feet and dragged her away, a violent, dark flood that she couldn’t control.

She cried, helplessly, for that life that would never happen, never see a sunny afternoon, a starry night, never chat over a glass of iced lemonade, or dip their toes into the soft, cool water of a lake.

Alan’s arm was around her shoulders, his body warm and solid beside her. „Don’t be ashamed,“ she heard his deep voice at her ear. „Crying is good for the soul.“

His permission seemed to open a deeper gate in her, a blacker pain; she turned around and buried her face in his chest, and wished... wished fervently for Galen to be here, for Galen to be this body.

But it was Alan who held her, her friend, who knew... who knew...

And then it stopped. Maybe it was simply exhaustion, or maybe she had spent all the grief she could spend per day, but she only felt empty, and a bit lightheaded. With a sniff, she pushed back from the human’s embrace, and wiped her eyes.

„I’m sorry,“ she murmured. „I don’t know why I... it was a long day.“

Alan just sat back on his haunches and looked at her.

„If you really think that this Levar didn’t kill your friend,“ he said finally, „then maybe you shouldn’t give up now, Zana.“

„I don’t know what to think anymore.“ Zana reached for her teacup, found it empty, and turned it in her hands, round and round, a nervous gesture she couldn’t stop. „All clues - _real_ clues, physical clues, not... not _gossip,_ “ she tried not to sound bitter, „point to Levar, and I have nothing. And perhaps the reason for it is because he _is_ guilty, and I’m just desperate to find something to, to... to get into Felga’s good graces again.“ She stared into the empty cup, too embarrassed to meet his eyes.

„Felga died believing that I’m like the kennel owners here - trying to exploit Peet. But I’m not! I was against this whole plan of letting him run, but I couldn’t tell her then, and she died believing that I’m an anim... a human abuser.“

„I don’t think Felga’s last thoughts were about that,“ Alan said softly, and Zana suddenly felt hot in her fur.

„I’m really an idiot,“ she murmured. „A self-important idiot. You’re right, of course.“

„You’re not an idiot.“ Alan grabbed the edge of the table and pulled himself to his feet with a groan. „She attacked you unfairly, aiming at one of your most important values, it’s natural that you want to vindicate yourself.“

„But she’s dead.“ Zana wasn’t ready to be as forgiving to herself as Alan was. „And this shouldn’t be about me. It should be about _her,_ about what really happened, and who’s really responsible for it.“

Alan limped around the table and gingerly sat down in his chair again. „You’re right, the investigation should uncover the truth. So... what does your gut instinct tell you?“

„Apes don’t have instincts,“ Zana said tiredly. At least she didn’t have any, because her gut didn’t tell her anything. „Only animals have them.“

„Believe me,“ Alan said, „we all have them. What does your heart tell you to do?“

Zana stared at him, as a new thought slowly formed in her mind. „It tells me that... if two people give each other an alibi... and both of them had motive to kill Felga... then neither of them really has an alibi at all.“

She leaned forward. „Either Vilam or Olman is responsible, and I’ll find the evidence to prove it!“

She rose, unable to sit still any longer. She had to do something, even if it was just making a fresh pot of tea. It was time to finally get some answers. And if the upstanding citizens of Sapan weren’t willing to give her the truth, well.

Then she’d have to dig it out herself.

* * *

Burke jogged across the clearing at an easy pace, and eyed the trees that were covering the steep incline on the other side. Its angle made it perfect for some of Marpo’s hill circuits, but if the undergrowth was too dense, he would have a hard time gaining enough speed for them to be really effective. Plus he’d have to be on the lookout for thorny vines and dead branches under the leaves. Running barefoot wasn’t his idea of professional sports, but Nike had gone up in flames with the rest of human civilization.

He’d just have to make the best of it. Since that wire incident, Burke hadn’t dared to use any of his training tracks twice, and he had steered clear of any path that was too well suited for a training run, like the deforested areas that Tall Timber left in its trail. The naked slopes were prime candidates for mudslides in the winter, when torrents of rain would flush them into the valleys. A lot of villages would cease to exist then.

Sometimes, the monkeys had good ideas.

Most of the time, Burke had fought his way through dry underbrush, making more noise than a herd of buffalo, and he wasn’t really sure if plowing through hedges would make him faster on the track. Well, resistance workout, right? Had to be good for _something_.

The undergrowth here wasn’t as bad as he had feared, though, and Burke decided to make use of this track as long as he could - maybe another hour or so, before the sun had crept to the horizon, and he had to return to the racetrack. He’d sprint up the incline as fast as he could, and then jog down to his starting point at a crisp pace that wouldn’t really give his muscles time to recover before he had to sprint uphill again. It had been Marpo’s favorite training method, and Burke hated it with every fiber of his being. It was brutal, and not just because the ape had liberally used his riding crop to chase him up and down the hill. But Burke had to admit that it had been damn effective, and if he was going to run that race, he’d run to win. Otherwise, what was the point?

He was slowly jogging along the edge of the clearing, looking for the least overgrown route to the top of the hill, and had just rounded a bramble thicket, when he stopped in his tracks, and hastily retreated.

A building was tucked into the forest, and it didn’t look like one of the work camp barracks. It seemed to be deserted, but Burke didn’t want to test his luck - the hut wasn’t dilapidated, so maybe it was still in use.

As if on cue, the door opened, and an ape appeared, warily scanned the clearing, and vanished around the edge of the building. Burke crouched down behind the brambles and waited. A moment later, the ape returned with a bag over his shoulder, bent under what was apparently a heavy load, and entered the building again.

Burke stayed where he was, unsure how to proceed. He could just ignore the whole thing; whatever these guys were doing over there was obviously a simian thing, and he’d leave after the race anyway, so why bother? But it did make him curious. Bootlegging monkeys?

Well, anything was possible on this crazy planet.

Keeping an eye on the door, Burke silently made his way through the thickets until he was at the back of the building. To his surprise, more huts were scattered throughout the forest, overgrown with vines, covered with branches and dead leaves. They looked more like little hills than huts, and from a distance, he’d probably have overlooked them completely.

_They’re making an awful lot of moonshine, if they need a whole village for it._

Standing between the huts, he noticed a faint smell. It reminded him of turpentine with a base note of french fries, a combination that made his throat constrict with disgust. Whatever the monkeys were cooking in there, Burke was sure he wouldn’t want to drink it.

The buildings did have windows, but they were set high in the walls, only meant to provide light, not a view. With a last quick look around, Burke took a run and jumped up the wall, grabbing the windowsill and dragging himself up to peek inside.

For a moment, he couldn’t see anything; it was dark inside, despite the skylights, and foggy... they were cooking something in wide, open vats; an ape was at each vat, stirring vigorously.

In one corner, apes were filling a fresh vat - one was pouring a dark, granulate stuff, the other was scraping something white and waxy out of a bucket... tallow? They were cooking something in tallow?

Whatever the apes were producing, he was seeing only one step in this building, Burke realized. He slowly eased himself down, then jumped the rest of the distance. He leaned against the wall for a moment, heart racing.

He’d have to find another hill for his sprints. Burke had no illusions about what would happen to him if anyone discovered him here. And whatever the monkeys were doing, he didn’t want to know. This looked like a drug kitchen without the kerosene, and he didn’t give a damn if a monkey blew his brain out with that shit.

He only breathed easily when he was back on the other side of the hill again.

 


	16. Chapter 16

„Are you sure we shouldn’t do this down at the racetrack?“ Virdon carefully kept his voice and face neutral.

„Nah, I’m fine.“ Burke critically eyed his stance. „Don’t let your elbow sag. I’m due today anyway, to show Ga... Faro my stitches. Wish he could pull them, but that’ll only happen after the race.“

They were in the garden behind Morla’s inn again, doing Tai Chi. Virdon still felt slightly ridiculous for doing those flowery moves at snail’s pace, but he couldn’t deny that his leg felt better than it had in a long time. And it did get the kinks out of his back after a day of cutting and sewing leather.

He concentrated on the movements for a while, thinking of nothing. Perhaps that was why he enjoyed these sessions so much - they were a respite from the constant planning, reminiscing, the silent conversations with Sally...

_ Stop thinking. _

„How’s that foot doing anyway?“ It was no use trying to get back into that empty mind state. „You’re moving it more than can be good for the wound.“

„It’s fine. The cut isn’t over moving parts.“

Virdon huffed a laugh. „You’re making it sound like machinery.“

Burke didn’t join in the laughter. „Better than making it sound as if I’m an animal.“

„Something happen again, at the tracks?“

Burke looked up, surprised. „I’m not training down there anymore. Don’t want a second wire to get me at throat level.“

„Ah.“ Virdon hadn’t known that. They were so dispersed now, each of them wrapped up in their own business. It worried him - they weren’t out of Urko’s reach yet, not until they were north of the mountains, and they couldn’t afford breaking apart now. „Good decision.“

They sat down on the steps to the kitchen for a moment, neither of them in a hurry to go inside and deal with a curt and cranky Galen. „It’s nice out there,“ Burke said after a moment. „Not an ape in sight for miles and miles... well, mostly.“ He shook his head and turned up a corner of his mouth. It wasn’t quite a smile.

„Ran into some monkey business yesterday,“ he continued. „At first, I thought they were bootlegging, but whatever they were cooking in those huts wasn’t alcoholic. Must be illegal, though, or they wouldn’t have taken such pains to hide the huts.“

Virdon frowned. „Huts, plural? Were you able to have a look inside?“

Burke flicked him a sideways glance. „Now why would I do that? Do I care what the monkeys cook up to fry their brains with?“

„Because I know you, Pete,“ Virdon said dryly. „And besides, who says their drug is meant for other apes?“

Burke stared at him. „You mean it’s for humans? What do  _ you _ know about this shit, Al?“

Virdon pulled himself up. „It’s high time we stop compartmentalizing like that.“ He gestured to the house behind them. „Let’s go upstairs - Zana has some interesting things to tell, too.“

But Zana wasn’t there when they opened the door; Galen was sitting alone at the table, clasping a mug with tar-colored tea. He didn’t look up to acknowledge either of them.

After a moment of tense silence, Burke moved into the room and sat down at the table. „You wanted to see me,“ he said roughly, „or my foot, actually.“

Galen blinked and inhaled sharply, as if he had been dozing with his eyes open. „Oh, yes, I did, didn’t I?“ He sighed deeply and pushed away from the table. „Give me your foot.“

Virdon went to the tea oven to boil fresh water. The apes were always preparing or drinking tea, a habit that had prompted Burke to moan that the Brits had evolved and come back to reclaim their former colony. Virdon would’ve preferred coffee, but at least it gave his hands something to do.

„Where’s Zana?“ he asked while he put a new log on the fire.

„I have no idea,“ Galen murmured without looking up from Burke’s foot. „For all I know, she’s watching the sunset with her paramour.“

Virdon shared an exasperated look with Burke, but wisely chose to say nothing.

As if on cue, the door opened, and Zana came in, balancing two boxes stacked upon each other. She stopped in her tracks when she saw the assembled team; apparently she had expected to come home to an empty room. Virdon suspected that she had planned to quietly stow away her booty, and bit back a smile.  _ Caught red-handed, Zana _ .

After a moment’s hesitation, Zana nonchalantly crossed the room and put the boxes on her bed. „Galen, dear,“ she said over her shoulder, „I wouldn’t have expected you so early in the day.“

Virdon rubbed his face, his momentary bout of amusement gone; he could already see another argument brewing between those two, the rare chance of comparing notes being wasted...

„I’m checking on Peet’s foot,“ Galen mumbled, who thankfully seemed equally uninterested in a fight. „It’s healing, just keep it clean,“ he added to Burke, and let go of his ankle. 

Burke put his foot on the floor again, but not quickly enough for Zana, who had dropped whatever she was doing, and had hurried over to the table.

_ „Mothers,  _ Peet, what did you do to your foot? Those are  _ stitches!“ _

Burke flicked a glance at Galen, rubbed his neck, and mumbled something about a bramble vine. 

Zana propped her hands on her hips. „Don’t lie to me, Peet,“ she said sternly, „an injury from a bramble vine doesn’t require stitches. What happened?“

Virdon saw a muscle tick in Burke’s jaw, but his friend just bowed his head, and quickly repeated his story about the wire that someone had stretched across his track.

Zana sucked in a deep breath. She looked ready to explode. „Vilam,“ she said, and Virdon was taken aback at the venom in her voice. „He is notorious for crippling competing racers. That son of a monkey! I’ll have him arrested!“

Virdon thought it wise not to point out to her that they didn’t have a shred of evidence that it had been Vilam who had prepared the track, and desperately cast for something to distract her.

„Pete was allowed to run outside the racetrack, in the woods,“ he said quickly, „so he could utilize the inclines for his training. Anyway, he found something in those woods today that you might find interesting.“ He nodded at Burke to continue.

Burke frowned at him in askance, but obediently took up the thread. „I found some huts that were camouflaged pretty well, and a bunch of mon... apes who were cooking something foul in vats of tallow. They were all pretty hush-hush about it, an’ what’s most interesting is that there wasn’t a single human around, not even for the low stuff, like stirring the whatever.“

Zana stared at him, then at Virdon. Her eyes were ablaze with excitement. „Do you think... that this is the evidence?“

„Maybe,“ Virdon said hesitantly. „Right now, we don’t even know  _ what _ they were doing out there, much less if it’s illegal. I mean-“ he held up a hand to stop her protest, „it looks shady, yes, but we should exclude other explanations. Maybe they need to do it far away from settlements because it smells bad...“

„It stank like hell,“ Burke interjected, „like fried battery acid.“

„What in Cesar’s name are you all talking about?“ Galen spoke up. For once, he sounded more bewildered than irritated.

„Yeah, what’s that about evidence?“ Burke scowled fiercely enough for both of them.

Virdon and Zana exchanged a look. Then Zana sighed. „Alan, will you make some tea? I need to get out of that heavy robe.“ She nodded at the boxes on her bed. „I bought some more of this lovely citrus tea. Mothers know, Felga’s tea house can use every bit of support they can get right now. The poor things are really struggling...“ Her voice became muffled as she pulled her overcoat over her head.

She sat down at the table just as Virdon carried the teapot over to them. „Well,“ she said, and patted the chair beside her, „It’s nice that we’re all together in one place again...“ She fell silent, as if she didn’t know how to segue into the less than nice subject of their talk.

Virdon glanced at Burke. „It’s time we put together the pieces of this puzzle. Maybe the result will give us a picture of what’s going on here.“

* * *

Everyone’s eyes were on Alan, Galen noticed… well, he was staring at the human, too, as if Alan had somehow returned to his old leadership position. There was no question about who had offered him that position: Zana was patting the chair beside her, inviting Alan to sit down with them.

„I can’t wait,“ Galen murmured, but he was too tired to put much heat into his words. If he was honest with himself, he  _ was _ faintly curious what everyone was talking about. He just hoped the whole debacle with Marpo wouldn’t come up again.

Well, Peet was obviously as loathe to break that subject as he was, but there was no telling how much Alan knew about it. Peet might have confided in him, seeing as he was another human, and his senior. Galen was reasonably sure that Alan wouldn’t confront him about it. Zana, on the other hand...

_ Let sleeping bushcats lie. _

Alan and Zana exchanged a look, and after a silent tug-of-war, Alan relented and began to speak. „Zana told me about her attempts to find out who really killed her friend Felga.“

Galen barely managed to keep his face under control. „Her murderer was arrested and is awaiting trial. Do you really think you are better suited to do police work than the police?“

Zana bristled, but Alan held up a hand, and she bit back whatever she was going to throw in his face.

„The circumstances of Felga’s murder were a bit too neat,“ Alan said. „And as Zana discovered, a lot of people had motive to kill her. But what she’s still missing is evidence that ties any of them to Felga’s death. Her main suspects have given each other an alibi, so we need something physical that they can’t explain away.“

Peet chipped with his thumbnail at the rim of his mug. „An’ you think that bootlegging mon... apes are that evidence?“

„I doubt they were making whiskey out there,“ Alan said dryly. He glanced at Galen and hesitated. „You studied medicine,“ he said finally. „Can you imagine what one would have to cook in fat?“

Galen leaned back in his chair and drew a deep breath. He had no idea where this was supposed to be leading, but for once, he wouldn’t have to think about the race, or Zana’s erratic behavior, or the gossip in the pub that Morla had sent a letter to Urko for help with that murder case.

He hadn’t believed that gossip even for a moment. Even if Morla had written that letter, Urko had better things to do than care for some grandmother in the hinterland.

„There are a lot of herbs whose healing powers are only unlocked when you treat them with another substance,“ he said. „Like wine, for example, or honey. And a lot of herbs need to be soaked in fat or oil, and heating hastens that process. But I can’t tell you what herb they could’ve used, there are so many...“ He took a sip of his tea.

„What about Horny Goat weed?“ Zana asked.

The tea burned his throat, and the coughing made it worse. „Why... why  _ that _ herb in particular?“ he wheezed when he was able to take a breath without provoking a new bout of coughs.

But Zana just stared at him with an intensity he would’ve found exhilarating if it hadn’t been stirred by her obsession for that dead woman. „Just humor me, dear,“ she said.

„Well,“ Galen said weakly, „Horny Goat weed is a, a tonic that ah, rejuvenates the... the body.“

Zana just gave him a look. „Really, Galen,“ she said, „you don’t have to be dainty with me.“

„Alright,“ Galen said nervously. „The flowers of goat weed are used for food coloring, but the medicinal properties reside in the root. Usually, the root is dried and sold to herbalists, and they grind it and soak it in wine. It’s used to treat urinary infections, and... other problems of the organs in that region.“

„It’s an aphrodisiac,“ Alan said in a deadpan voice.

„Yes,“ Galen admitted.

„Does it smell like dead ape in rock oil?“ Peet wanted to know.

„It has a strong, very peculiar smell,“ Galen said, forcing himself not to glare at him. „It has been described as everything from the smell of a, well, horny billy goat to turpentine...“

„That’s it!“ Peet cried out. „Knew that it reminded me of  _ something _ ... Something disgusting.“

„But why would they cook it in fat?“ Zana wondered. „Did you ever read about that, Galen?“

„Not that I remember...“

„Could it be used to make it more potent? Like a drug?“

Galen shook his head. „Not by cooking alone. That’s just used to extract the essence of the plant. If you want to potentiate it, the extraction would only be the first step.“

„There were more huts,“ Peet remarked. „I just didn’t climb them all to look inside. I had the feeling they wouldn’t be too thrilled if they saw me.“

„If they were making drugs, they’d have killed you, no doubt,“ Galen muttered. „You took a great risk by even spying on that one building.“

„It wasn’t as if I went looking for them,“ Peet defended himself. „I just sorta stumbled over them.“

„You should’ve turned away immediately,“ Galen said sternly.

„I’d be touched by your concern,“ Peet scoffed, „if I didn’t know that it’s more for that prize money than for my health.“

„Pete,“ Alan said calmly, and Peet leaned back in his seat with a scowl, submitting to him with an ease that he had never shown towards Galen.

„Can you find out how  _ Blaze  _ is made?“ Alan returned to the subject at hand, and Galen tore his mind away from the question of how Alan handled his volatile friend so easily.

„Oh, that’s what you think it is?“ he asked, surprised. „Well, I’ll see if I can find something about it in my scrolls.“ He sighed. „If I was still Dr. Kova, I could ask Dr. Aldo if I could borrow his scrolls, but he has no reason to let a leatherware trader have a look...“

„So, suppose they do cook that shit in the woods,“ Peet spoke up; he was again chipping at the mug, not meeting anyone’s gaze. „Who are their clients?“

„Kennel owners, mostly,“ Zana sighed. „They use it on their humans, to make them run faster. It  _ is _ illegal,“ she added hastily, „anyone who is caught using it is immediately disqualified and has to pay a heavy fine...“

„I thought you said it’s an aphrodisiac.“

„Yes, it... depends on the dosage.“ Now Zana seemed to be uncomfortable. „If you overdose, it will even kill the... the recipient.“

„So you think Felga was killed with an overdose?“ Peet scratched his head, clearly confused.

„No, Felga was strangled.“ Zana’s hand crept to her own throat. „What a terrible way to die,“ she murmured.

„Actually, you fall unconscious very quickly,“ Alan murmured. „She didn’t suffer, at least.“

Galen didn’t believe that for a moment, but appreciated the human’s attempt to console her.

„So, what does this drug business have to do with her?“ Peet wondered.

„We don’t know yet,“ Alan admitted. „Maybe nothing. But Felga was investigating some shady business going on at the racetrack - kennel owners killing the racers of the competition, fixing races... Maybe she found a connection between the drug business and one of those owners. That’d definitively have given him a motive to silence her. Did you hear anything about a chimp named Vilam?“

„Yeah, one of his racers smashed his elbow into my face at that first race, an’ his trainers love to use the crop on them during training.“ Peet shrugged, but his body was tense. „Got welts all over the back of their legs.“

„That barbarian,“ Zana murmured.

„Did you ever see him or one of those trainers threaten any of the other racers, or their connections?“ Alan wanted to know.

Peet glared at him. „I’m not gonna play private eye for you or Zana down there. I just wanna survive this last race and then get the hell outta Dodge.“

„I’m not saying that you should start investigating,“ Alan said calmly. „But if you  _ happen _ to see or hear something...“

„I’m gonna report to you, Colonel, got it.“ If anything, Peet looked even more sullen than before.

„You know,“ he added abruptly, „even if that Vilam filled all his racers up to their ears with that shit, they’d still have enough of the stuff left. I mean, that was like a whole village out there, an’ who knows if it’s the only one? I saw those fields when I was still working for that timber company; didn’t know what it was for then, they just said it was a medicinal herb they’re selling down South...“

„So you think they are selling the drug to someone else?“ Zana asked.

Peet shrugged. „Wouldn’t make sense to go to all that trouble if they didn’t make a nice buck with it.“

„I agree,“ Alan said. „Maybe some apes want to take advantage of the... endurance-enhancing properties of  _ Blaze,  _ too _.“ _

Peet rubbed his face. „Oh man. Coke-sniffing apes. What else is this fucked-up world gonna throw at me?“

Galen remembered something, and immediately wished he hadn’t. „The drug  _ is _ used in certain circles,“ he said slowly. He stopped when all eyes turned to him.

„I never took it,“ he said, a bit more forcefully than intended. „But I saw others take it, at student parties... Ango was notorious for his wild parties, the wildest in the City... none of the, ah, respectable girls were allowed to come...“

„Is the name Ango quite common, or are you talking about  _ that _ Ango?“ Alan asked, a strange glint in his eyes.

Galen nervously scratched his head. „I’m talking of  _ Privat  _ Ango, yes,“ he admitted. „Of course that was before he joined the order... anyway,  _ Blaze  _ has been around for some time, and done its dirty work, and maybe it has been delivered from this little town all that time. It would be possible - goat weed doesn’t grow in the South.“

„Fine.“ Zana clapped her hands. „We don’t have much time left - the race is in four days, and Levar’s trial... and execution... will be on the day after that. If he didn’t kill Felga, an innocent man will end up on the gallows. I can’t take that on my conscience. Can you?“

She would’ve been a good defense lawyer, Galen thought cynically; she certainly knew how to use leading questions. Predictably, Alan shook his head; Peet shrugged, but sighed and held up his hands in surrender when she glared at him.

Finally, Zana’s eyes locked with his. „What about you, Galen?“ she asked, keeping her tone carefully neutral.

„I wouldn’t want an innocent man to die, either,“ Galen hedged, „but what can I do here? What can any of us do?“

„Well, Peet can keep his eyes and ears open at the racetrack, as Alan had suggested,“ Zana said. „It’s a place none of us can go without sticking out...“

„Al can chat up that ol’ drunkard,“ Peet interjected. „Tovar’s really doting on you, Al.“

“... and Peet could also show officer Rogan the drug kitchen,“ Zana continued, ignoring his last comment. „I’ll try to find these notes that supposedly incriminate Levar... I find it strange that I found no mention whatsoever of him in the notes that Felga had hidden at her mother’s house. Maybe someone forged that complaint... maybe the same ape who killed her.“

„And what do you want  _ me _ to do?“ Galen asked, faintly amused.

Zana hesitated for a moment. „I think... I’m  _ convinced  _ that Olman is behind the whole  _ Blaze  _ business. And he needs to account for the money he earns with that business, somehow. I’m sure he’s hiding it in his books somewhere. Would you be able to find it, if you had access to his books?“

Now it was Galen’s turn to hold up his hands. „What do you think I am,“ he protested, „an auditor? Even if I could get access to Olman’s books - and you haven’t told me yet how you’re going to accomplish that - it could take me a long time to discover anything. This isn’t something I can do in a quick search, while you keep him occupied with flirty banter and a scandalous cleavage!“

Beside him, Peet spit out his tea. „Hot, it’s damn hot,“ he gasped, „burnt my tongue.“

Zana drummed her fingers on the table. „Well, what  _ can _ you do?“ she asked, frustrated.

For a long moment, Galen drew a blank. The only thing he knew was that he absolutely wanted to contribute  _ something _ to Zana’s project; it seemed that her investigation had put her on a collision course with that constable, and this was a golden chance to get her back... to prove to her that their relationship was something she could count on in times of need.

Then he had an idea.

„I could find out if Olman’s and Vilam’s mutual alibi holds up,“ he suggested.

Zana frowned. „Even if it doesn’t, we still wouldn’t have a physical clue - like that bandage. Rogan said without evidence, we can’t accuse anyone.“

„I assume Rogan hasn’t heard of circumstantial evidence, then,“ Galen said mildly, careful to hide his triumph.

„Well, neither have I,“ Zana said, nonplussed.

„It’s evidence that  _ implies _ that the defendant was involved in the crime,“ Galen explained. „Those physical clues your constable is so fond of are evidence, but so is everything else that allows to infer that the suspect is guilty beyond a reasonable doubt.“ 

He leaned forward, happy to have found something that would dull the constable’s shining image in Zana’s mind a bit. „So if neither Vilam nor Olman have an alibi for that night, and we could show that Vilam had access to those bandages, for example, it would strongly imply that he had been involved in the crime, especially since he lied about his alibi - that lie itself is also a fact that you can make inferences from.“

He leaned back in his seat. „Of course, all those clues have to add up. You, or rather, the judge needs to be able to connect the dots, which means that the more dots you have, and the better they line up, the better your chances of getting the true culprit to the gallows.“

Zana nodded thoughtfully. „And  _ how _ do you want to find out about those alibis?“

Galen smiled. „Just leave that to me, dear. I have my ways.“

He’d get that information, and thus get on her good side again.

But he’d also get his payback for her shameless flirting with that rogue.


	17. Chapter 17

She really shouldn’t do this to herself, Zana mused, as she silently jumped off the wall that Vilam had drawn around his premises. Her belly was much better thanks to Dr. Aldo’s teas and poultices, but she was still in recovery, and shouldn’t climb over other people’s fences at night.

She crouched behind a shrub for a moment, to make sure the guard hadn’t noticed her.

She was pretty sure that nobody had seen her unauthorized entry - she had sat in a tree for the better part of the evening, until she was sure she knew the guards’ routine. But it was better to be safe than sorry, although her definition of ‘safe’ had changed a bit since her days in the institute. Back then, workplace safety meant wearing gloves when handling toddlers that went through their defiant phase; today, safety meant not being killed by fellow apes.

Especially not while she was sneaking into their kennel section.

Zana wasn’t sure what exactly she was looking for, or if the human kennels were the right place to search, but Vilam’s mansion was simply out of reach - up in a tree, heavily guarded, and with only one access point at the base of that tree. She just hoped that Vilam kept his incriminating evidence somewhere in the kennels - maybe in a feed room.

It was a faint hope. But she had to try, at least. Her friend had been killed, and now Peet had been attacked, and all she had been doing was digging through old notes... scavenging the results of Felga’s investigation, _real_ investigative work. Zana was sure that Felga had trespassed on more than one kennel owner’s premises, to expose their abusive treatment of humans. It was only right that she stopped hiding behind scrolls and went out to find some real evidence. Physical clues, not gossip, something that would convince Rogan to arrest Vilam.

That time in the tree had given her a good overview of the kennels’ layout, and with darkness rushing up from the valleys, she had to rely on her memory now. In the indigo light, the kennels were fuzzy shadows, long, low buildings that reminded Zana of the shelter’s work houses; but inside, there wouldn’t be workrooms and community rooms. Just long corridors with doors on either side, leading to small sleeping chambers with a single, barred window.

Cells, not bedrooms. Cages, like in the... like in the institute. Zana paused for a moment at the gate to the first house, struck by that last thought. It wasn’t a comparison she had wanted to make.

Getting into the kennel was a matter of moments - Vilam apparently put all his confidence into his guards, because the lock was a simple mechanism that was easy to pick. With a last quick look over her shoulder, Zana slipped inside and silently closed the door behind her.

The corridor was pitch black; as Zana had predicted, a row of closed doors on either side led to nothing more than - hopefully sleeping - humans. She tiptoed to the end of the corridor to peek through the feeding flap in the door at its end, but the chamber behind the door contained yet another human, curled up on its cot.

She sneaked out of the silent building again, into the cool night air that already carried the scent of winter rains. Getting away from the inn had been disappointingly easy - neither Galen nor Peet had been there to stop or question her, and she had sent Alan to his room, claiming she wasn’t feeling well and wanted to go to bed early. If all went as planned, Galen wouldn’t even be home yet when she returned...

She couldn’t brood about the state of their relationship right now. Zana forced her attention back to the next building in her path.

It was smaller than the kennel house she had just left, a plump, boxy building with a flat top that looked strangely out of place. Zana picked the lock and slipped inside, praying that she had found the infirmary, or the feed room, or...

It had both, and a storage room, and a tack room, and an office - it seemed that Vilam had crammed everything that wasn’t a racer’s cage into this building. Zana allowed herself a moment of cautious celebration - if she would find anything that proved Vilam’s involvement in Felga’s murder, it would be here. If she didn’t find anything...

_... if I find nothing, I’ll admit defeat. I’m not going to climb into Vilam’s tree._

She almost believed herself.

She lit her little lantern and cupped it with one hand, trying to keep its glow from seeping outside. The windows didn’t have shutters, and if one of Vilam’s guards wandered by, she’d be doomed. Still, she needed to use a lamp - it was a moonless night, and the room was nothing but a collection of velvety shadows.

The feed room revealed nothing, except for boxes with oats, dried beans, turnips, and various supplements. Zana half expected to find Horny Goat weed among the supplements, but the labels just said ‘mineral mix’, or ‘chest relief’ - the mixture smelled strongly of mint, and Zana preferred to believe that its contents were as benign as the label promised.

The tack room was equally devoid of murder weapons, although it did satisfy Zana’s curiosity about racing equipment - until now, it had seemed to her that a human didn’t need more than two strong legs for racing. But now, she marveled at trunks and lockers with racing silks - shorts and jackets -, leather contraptions that she identified after some experimentation as knee braces, cloth pieces with sewn-in lead weights to tie around the racer’s ankles or around its waist, and rolls and rolls of bandages, all in the kennel’s silver gray.

That last discovery was disappointing. With Vilam attacking the other kennels’ racers, he would’ve had easy access to their racing bandages - he could have stashed away an assortment of every color, and Zana had nursed the faint hope that Levar’s blue bandages would be lying around here somewhere.

Of course, that would mean that he had taken one each time he smashed a human’s kneecaps, and Zana couldn’t think of a good reason for that; Vilam didn’t strike her as the type who took trophies. Unlike... Urko, for example...

Or Vilam had planned to kill Felga for some time, and to frame his biggest rival Levar for it, and had stolen a single blue bandage from his kennel when he had attacked one of his racers. Zana frowned at the stack of gray bandage rolls; Levar had mentioned that he had hired security for his racers after the first attacks. It would’ve been extremely difficult for Vilam to get his hands on one of their bandages then. He could only have stolen a bandage before Levar had introduced his guards.

Would Vilam have planned that far in advance?

With a shrug, Zana closed the doors of the cabinet. She didn’t know Vilam well enough to answer that question. It was perfectly possible that he had been planning this crime for years - some people had an obsessive personality.

But if he had stolen just one blue bandage for that purpose, its only trace would be the single blue thread that was tucked away somewhere in the watch house now, as evidence against Levar.

Zana suppressed a frustrated groan, and hurried into the last room, where a reedy desk and several equally shabby cabinets formed some sort of office. Vilam probably just used it to write up his feeding plans, or to track which of his humans was needing braces right now.

She still searched the desk, if only to prove to herself that she hadn’t left anything out. As she had predicted, the top drawers contained crumpled scrolls with training plans, receipts and old invoices for food deliveries, and some hastily scribbled notes about breeding matches.

Zana threw the scrolls back and closed the drawer. The bottom drawer was bigger, and felt heavy when she pulled it out; Vilam, like many males of a certain age, was probably stashing a bottle or two of what Peet had called ‘moonshine’ there...

The glass bottles clinked faintly against each other as she pulled out the drawer completely. Their form was unusual - not the familiar pear-shaped liquor bottle, but long and slim, and cylindrical. Zana picked one up and held it against her lamp to read the label.

_Fourteen etka for a male human of twelve stones - do not give to cubs - keep away from light and heat - DO NOT GIVE TO APES_

Zana stared at the small, sharp script, refusing to believe that it meant what she thought it meant.

Then she uncorked the bottle and took a cautious sniff.

She recoiled with disgust. _Dead ape in rock oil,_ Peet had called it. _A billy goat’s musk, mixed with turpentine,_ Galen had described it. Zana couldn’t imagine how anyone, human or ape, would swallow this vile liquid voluntarily, and she didn’t want to imagine what it did to the body if it was directly injected into a muscle or blood vessel. How could _anyone_ inflict this on an innocent creature?

But now she had something on the bastard; something _physical,_ like Rogan had demanded. She’d show him the bottles, kick his condescending butt up Vilam’s tree to search the mansion from root to crown...

But first, she’d make sure that Vilam couldn’t wiggle his way out of this mess she’d push him into. Carefully, Zana tilted the bottle and poured a small amount of _Blaze_ into the compartment behind the drawer. Then she recorked the bottle and put it, and the other bottle, into her bag.

She closed the drawer, cutting off the stench from the spilled liquid, and rose.

„I hope for you that there’s a dashing young ape lying under that desk who’s too wrung out to stand up - otherwise I’d have to shoot you for burglary.“

Later, Zana would reflect on her missing startle reaction - how countless days and nights of being on the run from Urko had trained her to react first, tear up later. Right now, she stared into the pinched, scraggy face of Padraman Vilam, and heard herself say, „That would be the most idiotic thing you could do, but it wouldn’t surprise me.“

Vilam slowly came closer; Zana noticed that contrary to his bold announcement, he didn’t have a gun with him.

„Really,“ he said. „Looks to me as if the only idiot is the one who breaks into a secured area at night, and doesn’t shield their lamp, so that the light wanders through the dark rooms like a drunk lightning bug and alerts the owner.“

Zana didn’t bat an eye at that; she had known that using a lamp posed a risk, but it had been unavoidable, and she had counted on her sharp ears. Unfortunately, the discovery of the drug had distracted her from listening for steps outside the window.

„No,“ she said evenly. „The real idiot is someone who thinks he can get away with crippling and killing other people’s humans. Well, maybe the other kennel owners really are cowards, or maybe they have enough humans that they can afford to lose some of their racers, but really, Vilam, you shouldn’t have attacked _my_ human, because unlike those other owners, I do care for him.“

She walked around the desk, and only stopped when she was only a hand’s breadth away from the old ape’s face. „Did you really think I’d look the other way when you try to cut my human’s foot off?“

Vilam took a step back. „What in Cesar’s name are you talking about, woman? I didn’t attack your human!“

Zana closed up to him again, deliberately getting in his face. „Don’t you deny it! _Everyone_ knows what you’re doing to the other racers, owners have security prowling the tracks day and night because of you...“

„I have hired security myself!“ Vilam protested. „So that this bastard, whoever it is, won’t attack _my_ humans-“

„In retaliation!“ Zana snapped. „You’re afraid that your despicable actions will come back to you one night! Well, here I am! Consider me the axe of the Mothers!“ She pulled out one of the bottles with _Blaze._ „Possession of illegal substances! And I’m sure the owners of the dead humans all still have their pathology reports! And don’t think you can escape justice a second time by killing me like you killed poor Felga! My husband knows where I am-“

„I didn’t kill anybody!“ Vilam shouted. „Great Cesar, will you listen to yourself, woman? You’re raving!“

„Oh, really,“ Zana said coldly. „And those bottles are figments of my imagination, right? Felga was on to you, I read her notes, and I gave them all to the police! _They_ are on to you, too, Vilam. Constable Rogan is already prowling the kennels at the stadium, collecting evidence. You should start thinking about your future, and how to salvage what’s left of it. Or does your loyalty to Olman go so far that you’re willing to hang for him?“

Vilam stared at her, his mouth slack with shock. „Olman?“

Zana waggled the bottle at him. „Who else has the resources, and the impunity, to produce this vile stuff under the eyes of the prefect? But even he won’t be able to protect Olman - or you - once the police has turned your estate upside-down.“

She came nose to nose with him. „And they _will_ turn up here, if I’m not back at my room in the next _atseht._ So better make up your mind quickly. It would be wise to turn yourself in and negotiate a lighter sentence. Your career in the racing business might end, but at least your life wouldn’t.“

„I didn’t kill Felga,“ Vilam said stubbornly, „and those bottles won’t prove that I did it, either, which is all well and good, _because I didn’t kill her!“_

„They prove that you’re in possession of the drug that killed the other kennels’ racers,“ Zana said, exasperated. „Which means that you had somehow gotten access to every kennel down at the tracks, which means you had access to their racers’ bandages, which means you had access to the murder weapon!“

„So?“ Vilam spread his arms. „Have you found that murder weapon here?“

„I’ve found _one_ murder weapon here,“ Zana said grimly, and held up the bottle.

„That’s not murder,“ Vilam sneered. „That’s just property damage.“

For a tiny moment, Zana contemplated smashing the bottle on his head. Vilam must’ve seen it in her face, because he took a cautious step back.

„Look,“ he said. „I understand that you’re upset about your racer. I would be, too, in your place. But I didn’t stretch that wire. Blazes, I put a bet on your human! He’s massively overlaid, do you have any idea how much money I’d get if he wins?“

„I thought owners aren’t allowed to bet?“ Zana said, confused.

Vilam impatiently flapped his hand. „Well, you have people who bet for you, they get a percentage of the win, it’s all good.“

That explained why Vilam had such a keen interest in fixing races, Zana thought, but this wasn’t her main concern now.

„Felga was investigating your shenanigans at the racetrack,“ she said. „The race fixing, the... _property damage,_ the use of _Blaze -_ judging by her notes, she was about to let it all go up in flames, and knowing her, I bet she planned to time her revelation with that big race that everyone is so excited about. It would’ve busted you, and Olman, and I’m absolutely sure that Olman isn’t the kind of ape who’d take something like this lying down - but of course he wouldn’t get his own hands dirty. You can deny it all you want, but the clues all point to _you.“_

„Except I didn’t do it, and you can’t prove anything!“ Vilam folded his arms across his chest, but he didn’t look so smug anymore.

Zana smiled. „Have you ever heard of circumstantial evidence?“ She doubted that he had; she had only learned it from Galen that afternoon herself. „Levar didn’t do it, either, and still he’s behind bars, and his gallows are being built on the market square. Are you really so sure that it won’t be _you_ who’ll be hanging there? You had motive and,“ she held up the bottle, „opportunity to get the means.“

Vilam stared darkly at her, nibbling at the inside of his lip. „I have an alibi...“

One that Galen would hopefully be able to destroy. „I’m giving you the chance to come clean,“ Zana drove home her last stake. „Go to Constable Rogan, confess to your crimes, and negotiate a deal in exchange for what you know about this whole Mothers-cursed drug business. The constable is an honorable man, Vilam; he may despise you for what you’ve done, but he’ll keep his word.“

She carefully put the bottle with _Blaze_ back into her bag. „Think about it,“ she continued. „Do you really want to take the punishment for another man’s crimes, while he goes unpunished? Is he really worth that much loyalty?“ She looked up and locked eyes with the Chimp. „Would you protect Olman’s dirty business with your life, Vilam?“

He still didn’t answer, but he stepped aside when she moved towards the door. Zana had half expected him to attack her, keep her from going back to Sapan, to the police.

But he’d have no way of hiding _that_ crime, as she had taken care to let him know.

„I’ll wait one day,“ she said as she passed him. „If you haven’t made up your mind until then, I’ll send the town watch to your house.“

„You’re so sure. You think you’ve sussed it all out, don’t you?“

She turned around in the door a last time. Vilam hadn’t moved; he was staring at the wall behind his desk. „What do you mean?“

And now Vilam did turn around, and squinted at her with a strange little smile. „Felga told you that us kennel owners are the bad apes, and now you’re on our tail like her good little monkey. Don’t you wonder how the killer could get her by surprise? She didn’t expect that attack, because it came from someone she thought _wasn’t_ a bad ape.“

Zana blinked. „So you admit that it wasn’t Levar?“

Vilam just huffed, and turned away again.

Zana searched for something she could leave him with - something that would sway this depraved individual’s mind towards doing the right thing for once.

„Despair drives us to do reckless things,“ she said at last. „Things we regret, things we... cannot make right again. But as long as one lives, there’s always the chance to at least accept responsibility for our mistakes, and to make things as right as possible. When you’re dead, that opportunity will be gone. Then it will be the Mothers who judge you, Vilam. Make sure you have something that speaks _for_ you, when that time comes.“

She stepped into the darkness, the bottles softly clinking in her bag.

* * *

„It’s really kind of you to give me access to Felga’s notes, sir,“ Zana said nervously, as she followed Ugar down the corridor to the archive of the _Sapan Sentinel._ She had half expected to be turned away - as a private citizen, she was dependent on the goodwill of Felga’s former boss.

To her relief, Ugar - a big, soft-spoken Gorilla whose fur had already turned silver - had been delighted by her request. „There’s a fire in you, I can see it in your eyes,“ he had said. „Felga had that same fire in her, poor girl.“

„This contains all of her notes,“ he said now, and waved at a shelf that ran the whole length of the wall, crammed with boxes that were overflowing with bent and crumpled scrolls. Zana remembered Felga’s sprawling, messy handwriting, and cursed herself for not taking some nut bread and dried fruit with her. She’d probably sit here all day, and the next day, and maybe even the day after that...

„Are these _sorted_ somehow?“ she asked hopefully.

Ugar shook his head with an apologetic grin. „Felga always said that _she_ had to be able to find her stuff again, not we.“ He threw another glance at the shelf, then at her. „But I have faith in you,“ he added, and patted her shoulder. „You have that tenacious streak an investigative journalist needs.“

And with that, he left her to her own devices.

For a moment, Zana just stood there in the dim light, inhaling the comforting scent of dusty scrolls, and seriously debated going back to the inn. There was just no way of knowing where to start, and there were _so many_ scrolls! They probably went back to Felga’s first day at work.

Well, staring at them wouldn’t help her finding what she needed. It wasn’t as if the right scrolls were going to jump off the shelf by themselves. Zana grabbed the box that was nearest to the door - someone like Felga wouldn’t have the patience for sorting her notes by theme, so she’d have gone for the simplest solution: stuff the scroll into the box that was at arm’s reach, and shove it back with an empty box as soon as no more scrolls fit into it.

She set to work.

It was tedious work, not just because of Felga’s handwriting, but also because the windows were tiny, and she hadn’t been allowed to bring a light into a room stuffed with flammable material. That would limit her time to the hours when the sun would still be up. Even so, she had a hard time deciphering Felga’s notes in the gray half-light that filtered through the grimy window panes. Apparently, when you were investigating corrupt prefects and abusive kennel owners, mundane things like cleaning the windows were at the bottom of the list of things that urgently needed to be addressed.

She still didn’t know what she was actually looking for; but Vilam’s last shot had stayed with her through the rest of the night, and the niggling thought that she might have overlooked something significant had bloomed into a fixed idea that had driven her out of bed again before sunrise. She had slept hardly at all, and in this silent, warm, dark room, it was hard not to fall asleep on Felga’s scrolls. For a moment, Zana entertained the fantasy of rolling up in one of the crates and disappearing for a few centuries of sleep.

At least her intuition about the timeline had be correct - as with the scrolls Morla had brought her, Felga’s scrolls here weren’t dated, either, but bits and pieces in the notes themselves gave Zana a rough estimate of the seasons, and the box closest to the door contained the most current scrolls. Zana allowed herself a tiny breath of relief; at least she wouldn’t have to dig through all the boxes until she reached the far end of the wall.

She started by sorting the scrolls by the targeted person, as she had done before. The oldest ones, dating back to the beginning of the year, all referred to Olman and his successful attempt to dodge his obligations to plant new trees for the ones they cut down. Zana shook her head; the towns and villages in the valleys were threatened by floods and landslides each winter, and a healthy forest was the best protection against both. That was a fact that should be immediately obvious to the most simple-minded ape, but apparently, Tall Timber’s stance was that this was a problem that the community should take care of.

The prefect had raised the taxes recently, to pay another company for something that Olman was actually obliged to do by law; Felga had been trying to prove that this company was somehow connected to Tall Timber, and that Olman had been bribing the prefect, but the notes suddenly broke off.

Zana checked the scrolls again, but there was no time gap; Felga had simply dropped that investigation, because she had gotten wind of another scandal. The rest of the notes were all concerned with the goings-on at the racetrack.

She frowned at that; Felga had gotten some strong leads, and Zana was sure that in the end, she would’ve been able to expose Olman’s shady deal with the prefect. _Maybe the abuse of humans was simply closer to her heart._ But still, it was unsatisfying.

According to Felga’s later notes, the racetrack and its expansion were Olman’s pet projects, something he had been investing an inordinate amount of money in over the past twenty years. During all that time, he had been president of the racing commission, as well as the biggest sponsor of every major racing event. He didn’t have any racers of his own in those races, as that was forbidden by the racing statutes, and he also wasn’t allowed to bet on any of the racers, to prevent fraud.

Not that this was a serious hindrance, as Zana had learned the previous night.

Felga, too, had been convinced that Olman was making money from this purported hobby of his, more money than what he was putting into it, and had set out to prove that theory. Zana dug through heaps of notes listing services and companies that were involved in those events, from ticket sellers, clerks, street vendors - if Melvin had given Galen his recipe for that special sauce, Zana thought, they could’ve earned money without having to stress out Peet so - and the charity’s humans that were hired out for catering, to the photographers who took pictures of the winners and sold them as souvenirs, all the other souvenir shops, which sold everything from miniature trophy cups to miniature dolls of racing humas, and even the veterinarians who had to check on the humans’ condition prior to a race, and declare them fit to run.

Each of them had been scrutinized by Felga - when they had been hired, how much Olman had paid them, and in which racing events they had been involved. Rows and rows of numbers - this was all just accounting, Zana realized with a groan. In her former life as a scientist, she'd had to deal with numbers as well, more than she had ever imagined as a student, and it had been the single aspect of her work she had positively loathed - statistics could never transport the fascination and immediacy of live observation, and still it had seemed to be the only thing her superiors had been interested in. She hadn’t regretted losing that part of her life, and now it seemed as if she’d have to dig down into numbers once again.

She put that stack of scrolls aside for the time being; maybe Ugar would allow her to take them back to the inn and pour over them at her table, in decent light. Maybe Galen could help her make sense of the numbers; granted, he wasn’t an accountant, either, but as a former student of law, he should have a natural inclination for dry assignments. She reached for the next scroll.

„Oh, this is interesting,“ she murmured as she skimmed it. Vilam’s name jumped out at her at once. Felga hadn’t named her source even in her own, private notes, just mentioned that she deemed it trustworthy, and the information genuine. According to that mystery informant, Vilam had been doing so badly financially that he had taken a loan from Olman; not long afterwards, racers had confessed to that source that their owners or trainers had told them to hold back during certain races, to let other racers win. The winners changed; it was never the same kennel, but the races were fixed nonetheless.

Zana thought of Felga’s notes about owners who didn’t play along finding that their humans had mysteriously broken a leg during their sleep. Other racers simply didn’t wake up again.

_Property damage. That bastard._

Felga hadn’t been able to get any of the owners or the racers to talk to her in person - which wasn’t surprising, considering her long-held hostility against them - and her informant hadn’t been able to get anyone to accuse Vilam by name, but the coincidence was striking, Zana had to agree.

 _Couldn’t find Levar when I went over to his house, so searched the kennels for him,_ the next scroll read. Zana held it up towards the grimy window to get better light; the script was even wilder than usual. Felga had been excited when she wrote it.

 _Didn’t find him there, either, but found something else,_ the text continued. _Humans were out, maybe for training, went to his tack room, opened some drawers while I was there, wanted to see what he kept in his medicine cabinet for his humans FOUND THREE BOTTLES OF BLAZE THAT BASTARD IS DRUGGING HIS HUMANS HOWLING CESAR IN A TREE!_

So it was true.

Zana let the scroll sink and stared dead ahead. Her heart was beating hard against her breastbone.

It was true. Levar had abused his humans, and Felga...

Zana forced herself to read on.

_Shoved the stuff in his face, he: didn’t use it on humans OF COURSE NOT said it belongs to Vilam now that I believe in a heartbeat said he took it so that he has evidence wanted to alert the racing commission but couldn’t explain why he hasn’t already_

_but will look into the Vilam claim need to find out who HE got it from this is BIG_

Zana sat back with a frown. She couldn’t imagine that Levar had broken into Vilam’s kennels, like she had done - he had probably found the drug at the racetracks. But why hadn’t he taken them to the police? Had he offered Vilam the same deal she had? Only to have his lover murdered, and himself be framed for it?

Maybe she shouldn’t wait; maybe she should go to Rogan right away.

But there were only two more scrolls in that box, so she decided to finish her investigation first. This was probably her only chance to read them.

Neither of the scrolls referenced Levar again, although they were from a later date. Instead, they went into some detail on methods of betting frauds; it looked as if Felga had copied a text from somewhere else. Curiously, she hadn’t mentioned her source in those notes.

Zana checked the next box, but the scrolls in there were all older than the oldest scroll in the box she had just emptied - Felga mentioned a session of the town council dealing with yet another landslide that had wiped out a village, right before the winter solstice.

She was done; there were less scrolls connected to this case than she had expected. Trying not to feel discouraged, Zana patted the dust from her robe and went to see Ugar in his office.

„Found something interesting?“ Ugar didn’t look up from his typewriter, but his voice was friendly.

„Several somethings,“ Zana replied. „Do you know if Felga had some more scrolls somewhere else - in her desk, maybe? More recent than this one.“ She held up the scroll with the copy of the betting fraud explanation, trying not to stare at the typewriter. She had applied dozens of times for one, back at the institute, but the Orangutans had shot down every request. Texts were to be copied by hand, efficiency be damned.

„Damn tiny keys,“ Ugar growled, and reached for a little flask. „Made for tiny Chimpanzee hands. You couldn’t have invented something a little more inclusive?“ He gingerly dabbed some fluid from the flask on the paper.

„I’m sure they can be adjusted for Gorilla size, if sufficient demand exists,“ Zana said absently. „Uhm... Felga’s scrolls?“

Ugar finally looked up. „Ah... no. We already took all of her stuff to the archive. If it’s not in there, it’s not anywhere.“ He squinted at the scroll. „And that one is pretty recent. If she had started another scroll, she maybe had it with her that night.“

In which case, her murderer had destroyed it, Zana silently completed the sentence. Whatever Felga had found out about Vilam after her fight with Levar, she had taken it to her grave - as well as anything that could’ve proven Levar’s claim that he had no part in the whole doping scandal.

But there had also been no indication that she had pressed charges against Levar.

_I’d really like to see that complaint. I’ve seen so much of Felga’s handwriting by now, I’m sure I could spot any discrepancies._

„Do you know if she planned to meet with someone that night?” Ugar had been Felga’s boss, supporting her in her investigative rabble-rousing. Maybe she had told him what she had been up to.

Ugar frowned at the machine before him, and cautiously turned a wheel. „I think she wanted to meet with Halda after work,” he said absently. „She didn’t tell me about what, but she seemed a bit…” He shrugged. „But Felga was always mad about something or other. It’s what made her such a great reporter. If there was some dirt to dig up, she’d find it.”

Well, that confirmed what Halda had told her, except that Felga had never made it to the shelter.

Zana frowned. „Do you think she would’ve told Halda about her investigations? She didn’t even tell her mother…”

 _Mothers, what if she had wanted to rant to her about me and Peet?_ After all, Felga had proudly presented her to Halda like a new acquisition, on that first day they had met, too...

„Ah, those two were-” Ugar held up one hand, fingers crossed. „I never understood why, honestly, especially since Halda was doing all the heavy lifting at the shelter, while Felga got to crash the elegant receptions and harass the ladies for donations.” He chuckled. „But maybe it worked out for both of them that way - Halda hates the limelight, and Felga loved it.”

Zana carefully rolled up the scroll. „I found some scrolls that list a lot of numbers, and it’s too dark in the archive to do any calculations,“ she said. „Is it possible that I borrow them for a day, if I show you which ones I mean? I’ll bring them back by tomorrow morning.“

Ugar grimaced. „Actually, that’s... you know, if that kind of documentation gets lost, or gets into the wrong hands... and I’d be responsible. Not that I don’t trust you,“ he added quickly, „but...“

„I understand,“ Zana assured him. „It was just an idea... it’s really very dark in there, and of course you can’t bring a light, with all that paper... Well, I’ll better go back in there, as long as there is still a little daylight left...“

„Ah, take them,“ Ugar growled. „It’s not as if anyone would pick up the torch after Felga’s gone. She was a bit obsessed with Olman, you know? Made him responsible for her poor father’s early death. She was nothing if not tenacious, but she couldn’t let go of a grudge, either. Well, I guess if you got one thing, you got the other, too, right? Everything comes at a price.“

„Thank you so much, sir,“ Zana beamed. „You won’t regret it, you’ll have them all back by tomorrow morning!“

Ugar just waved her away when she returned to show him the scrolls; he was fighting with the typewriter again, muttering curses under his breath as he tried to fit in a new inked ribbon.

 _One day,_ Zana vowed to herself, _I’ll own a typewriter myself._ She’d even enjoy smearing ink all over her fingers while the ribbon unspooled.

Right now, though, she had more urgent things demanding her attention. She would task Alan with the accounting; it was a good reading exercise, if nothing else. And it wasn’t as if she was dodging an unattractive task, either - while Alan was exercising his reading skills, she would seek out the only logical person who could provide her with an opportunity to look at that complaint, and to talk to Levar again.


	18. Chapter 18

„Are you looking for your friend again? He’s not here.“

Virdon stayed where he was, elbows propped on the white railing of the training ground, but he turned his head to acknowledge the old ape who was now slowly approaching. Tovar held onto the railing with one hand; his steps were slow and short. A slightly sour scent was preceding him.

Virdon smiled, and turned his gaze back to the racetrack. „I know. He’s worried he’ll run into another wire again if he trains here.“

He had decided to be blunt about Burke’s absence; chances were that the wire incident was known anyway. The only thing traveling faster than light was gossip.

But Tovar didn’t take the bait. He just grunted and leaned against the railing, and Virdon inconspicuously turned his head a little higher to catch the soft breeze that was ruffling the canopy above him. The chimpanzee had been drinking again, and hadn’t bothered to change his robe.

„Then why are you here? Are you trying to figure out the competition?“ Tovar smacked his lips. „Dark Intentions is gonna win. There, you can go home now.“

Virdon didn’t move. „Why are you so sure? He didn’t win the last race, either.“

Tovar vaguely flapped his hand. „This is different. This is a big race, not three laps around the town square. Your friend will run against professionals, he doesn’t stand a chance. Better not get your hopes up.“

„How do you know?“ Virdon insisted. „I thought betting is a gamble? Seems strange that everyone knows the outcome beforehand...“

„Not everyone,“ Tovar interrupted him. „Just old Tovar here. Because he’s been around forever, and he remembers every racer that’s ever run.“

„Yes,“ Virdon said calmly, keeping his eyes straight ahead, „old Tovar knows everyone around the tracks. Not just the racers, I’d bet. Trainers, clerks, grooms...“

„I know a lot of people,“ Tovar muttered. „Not all of them.“

„I bet you know Vilam,“ Virdon said casually. „He’s a kind of celebrity, or so I’ve heard.“

Tovar coughed, a wet and bubbly sound. „Everyone knows Vilam, so?“

Virdon turned fully towards him, still leaning against the railing. „So I heard some things about him that I can hardly believe. I mean, I can believe an owner would try them, but I can’t believe the other owners would tolerate them...“

Tovar held up a hand. „I don’t wanna hear it, and you don’t wanna work that mouth of yours, boy. You have one bad leg already, you don’t wanna have two of them.“

„So it’s true,“ Virdon said quietly. „Vilam is threatening the other racers, and if their owners don’t comply, he cripples their humans.“

„Didn’t say that he does,“ Tovar growled. „You said that.“

„And you didn’t object.“

„Ah!“ Tovar sniffed impatiently, and stared across the lawn. „All those trees were just little saplings when I was a boy,“ he said abruptly. „The humans had to run in the midday heat, with no shadow anywhere. Ape ladies were fainting in the stands, but the humans ran as if they didn’t even feel it. Of course they were sweating like horses. Amazing creatures.“ He turned his head to squint at Virdon.

„Nowadays they take them old racers and stuff them into that  _ charity,  _ and make them sit all day and make those ugly, useless...  _ things,  _ I don’t even know what they are for, to sell them to the fat ape matrons down South!“ He spit out. „That’s no life for a human. They’re meant to run, not sit on their ass all day!“

„Before the charity took them, those humans were killed,“ Virdon pointed out.

„So they had a full life, and never knew anything but the tracks,“ Tovar exclaimed. „Never knew the misery of those workhouses! They ran, and then they didn’t. Now if that wasn’t a better life! A lot of things were better back then...“ He sighed.

Like Vilam not fixing races, probably, but Virdon found he couldn’t focus on that right now. „You really think that the sum of a human life is... running around in circles, chasing after nothing, round after round?“

Tovar smiled and spread his arms; he was swaying as if he was standing in a strong breeze. „Chasing after the horizon, boy, always the horizon. Don’t you feel that hunger? Don’t you wish you had two good legs again, to eat up the miles?“

Virdon exhaled heavily. „I do.“ God, words couldn’t express how much he yearned to be on his game again. But if he was ever eating up the miles again, it would be on a straight path, straight up North, for starters.

Tovar nodded triumphantly. „See? Bird flies, fish swims, human...“

„Human runs, I know,“ Virdon said tiredly. „But lately, a lot of humans seem to suffer sudden injuries before they can run their race. Doesn’t that take away all the... all the fun?“

„It does,“ Tovar agreed morosely. „But I’m just an old ape.“ He patted Virdon’s cheek. „What can I do? It’s bad luck, that’s what it is.“ He turned away.

„Some humans seem to have excellent luck.“ Virdon followed him down the path, determined to get some kind of admission from the old drunkard. „They are so fast, it’s as if they’re being doped...“

Tovar turned around so abruptly that Virdon almost bumped into him. „Now you listen to me! This race is a  _ celebration!  _ We come together here, and we drink, and we’re merry, and we admire them racers, and we have a good time. And Olman, he’s the president, he makes sure that everything is as it should be, always has. You got me? If anyone was clubbing humans at night, or giving them stuff that’s not good for them, or telling them not to run like the wind - the president would kick them out! He wouldn’t allow such a thing! The race is the best thing that’s happening here, and that’s because everyone loves it!“ The old ape banged a fist against Virdon’s chest. „Do you even know what that is, love? Ah, you’re a human, how would you know?“

„I know what... I understand that you love the races,“ Virdon said quietly, but the ape had turned away again and was shuffling down the path as quickly as possible, muttering under his breath.

Virdon decided not to take up pursuit. It was pointless - the old chimp was either too afraid, or too much in denial to tell him anything. He sighed, and rubbed a hand over his face. Who else could he chat up? Maybe one of the grooms?

He had to try. At least one thing was clear from Tovar’s reaction: someone  _ did  _ attack the humans, at night, when they were supposedly safe in their locked kennels. And despite Tovar’s heartfelt declaration, it didn’t seem as if the president of the racing commission cared too much about the abuses under his patronage. 

And with Burke insisting to stay in one of those cabins, too...

They had to know who they were up against.

* * *

„I’m sorry, but the director is not here... Faro.“ The young Chimp frowned at her scroll. „And he won’t be here for the rest of the day, either, I’m afraid. Are you  _ sure _ that you had an appointment today? There’s nothing in his calendar...“

„Oh, I, I’m  _ absolutely  _ certain that he had spoken of  _ today,“  _ Galen said softly. He had taken care to only show up at Tall Timber’s main office when it was absolutely sure that its boss was  _ not _ present. „It’s about the sale of my racing human, you see, Director Olman had seen it run at the Sapan Valley competition...“

„That’s yours?“ the girl interrupted him with a broad smile.  _ „I’ve  _ seen your human run at that race, it was spectacular!“

Her eyes were suddenly shining with excitement, and Galen suppressed a little sigh. Back in Cesarea, a young ape had to be witty, charming, up to date on the latest gossip and the latest cultural and political events,  _ and  _ had to conduct diligent and clandestine research into the interests of his intended, if he wanted to have the slightest hope of getting more than some polite small talk from the young lady.

To be honest, the political stuff was more to impress the fathers than the daughters.

In Sapan prefecture, however, all that was needed were the results of the last five races, and a bit of betting lingo, and you were set. It was pitiful.

Well. He wasn’t here for fun. Just a little bit.

„But why do you want to sell it?“ The girl - Galen glanced at her name plate; Palia - wanted to know. „If it’s such a good racer?“

„Oh, it’s... I can’t give it the training and the, the care that it needs,“ Galen said morosely, and Palia sighed with him in shared melancholy. „And it’s already rather old, for a racer,“ Galen added after a moment of thoughtful silence. „Director Olman wanted it for breeding, not racing.“

„Won’t you miss your human?“ Palia propped her chin in hand and stared up at him with furrowed brow.

„Miss it?“ Galen said with feigned confusion.

„Ah, well.“ Palia pushed away from her desk and began to gather the scrolls that had been scattered all over its top. She avoided looking at him. „Maybe men are not so soft when it comes to that... my father always says that I shouldn’t help out at the shelter, that it just gives me the wrong ideas.“ She shrugged and turned away.

„I will miss my human,“ Galen said quietly, and cursed himself for his blunder. This had been the perfect opportunity to bond with the young secretary, and he hadn’t realized it. He had become too used to the ‘cold plantation owner’ routine, it seemed.

„You’re just saying that now,“ Palia muttered, but she had stopped moving away from him.

„It’s something one cannot admit to a lot of people without being ridiculed,“ Galen pointed out. „And although I could see that you’re an extraordinarily kind and caring person, I couldn’t know if your kindness also extended to humans. For many apes, it doesn’t. So you have to forgive me...“

„No, no, that’s alright,“ Palia said quickly. She began to sort the scrolls into the honeycomb-shaped shelves behind her desk. „You’re right, Faro - you couldn’t know.“ She hesitated. „Maybe... maybe you shouldn’t sell it, then,“ she murmured, still not looking at him.

„I... I need the money,“ Galen lied. „But if there’s a, a compelling reason not to give my human into Director Olman’s hands...“

„Oh, no!“ Palia had sorted the last scroll into the shelf, and turned back to him now with raised hands. „Director Olman will treat it well, don’t you worry, and if it’s a good sire, he won’t retire it to the charity, either. He keeps his humans until they die from old age, did you know that?“

„No, I hadn’t known,“ Galen murmured. „But I heard of other kennel owners who weren’t so generous. Vilam, for example...“

Palia shuddered. „Such a horrible man.“ Then she clasped her hands over her mouth and stared at Galen with huge eyes.

Galen just grinned and winked at her, and Palia burst into helpless giggles. „Don’t worry,“ Galen assured her with a conspiratorial whisper, „your secret is safe with me. Besides, I’ve met the man, and my judgment is the same as yours.“ He shuddered demonstratively, and a fresh bout of giggles burst through Palia’s hands.

He allowed himself an answering chuckle and casually perched on the edge of Palia’s desk. „I’ve heard that Vilam’s not doing so well lately,“ he said confidentially. „It’s maybe the best for his humans if they have to be sold off.“

Palia rolled her eyes. „If that would only happen! But they won’t get away from him anytime soon, the poor things! You know...“ She bit her lip, clearly struggling with her professional duty of keeping business information to herself.

Galen studied the painting on the other wall - a pair of running humans against a sunset. „Men like Vilam somehow always swim on top,“ he murmured. „They have the right friends, the right connections...“

„It’s just because the director loves the races so much,“ Palia whispered. She leaned a bit closer, and Galen leaned closer to her, too, until he could feel her breath on his face. „Vilam came here some days ago to get another loan from the director...“

Galen raised his brows at that.  _ Another _ loan?

„That certainly was an eventful night,“ he offered, watching the girl’s face closely. „Wasn’t that when that reporter was killed, too?“

„Oh, that was so  _ horrible!“  _ Palia whispered. „Poor Felga...“

„Maybe Vilam had enough of her investigations,“ Galen ventured. „If he was struggling anway, a fine would’ve hit him hard.“

„I think he’d absolutely have done it, he’s the type for it,“ Palia nodded furiously. „But he and the director were in that meeting almost until morning - I know because I had to work overtime, because I had to do the tax declaration thing, and... and I’m still new, so I’m slow, and Andina said I wasn’t allowed to go home until I fixed my mistakes, and...“ She gasped for breath, and Galen laid a soothing hand on her arm.

„It’s never easy being new at something,“ he said. „But it speaks for you that you’ll keep at it until it’s done right. That’s the way to mastery. So when did you get to go home, or did you have to work through the next workday, too?“

„Director Olman,“ Palia gasped, and jumped to her feet.

Galen whipped around, heart thumping.  _ But he wasn’t supposed to be here today! _

„Palia, dear.“ The silver-haired Chimp was standing in the door, relaxed, smiling, and not at all surprised about Galen’s presence, or too smooth to let it show. „Make us some tea, would you?“

„Yes, of course, Director.“ Palia bolted from the room.

Galen had used Olman’s momentary distraction to get off the corner of the desk and assume a less casual stance, searching furiously for a credible excuse for showing up in Olman’s lair.

„And what brings you here... Faro, isn’t it?“ Olman quickly crossed the distance between them and genially shook his hand. „Aren’t you the owner of that wildcard racer? Liquid Fire!“ He tapped at his temple. „I’m really bad with names, but a racer’s name gets stuck in my head immediately.“ He laughed, a relaxed, infectious laugh that would usually put everyone at ease.

Unfortunately, it failed to calm Galen. „Ah, ah, yes,“ he stuttered. „Liquid Fire. I’m still not used to that name. I, I had heard that you’re an expert when it comes to breeding, and I, I had thought of asking you if you would share some tips...“

„Faro said he had an appointment with you, sir, for the sale of his racing human,“ Palia interrupted him eagerly, balancing a tray with a teapot and two cups as she entered the room.

Galen groaned inwardly.

„Oh, really?“ Olman regarded him with renewed interest. „Your wife was dead set against the idea, when I talked to her about it.“

„She still is,“ Galen said weakly.  _ Great Cesar, how will I ever get out of this mess? _

Olman clapped his shoulder. „Right you are to ignore her, Faro! Who’s the master of the house, after all, huh? Well, I’m pleased to hear that you’re willing to consider my offer, and I assure you, you won’t regret it.“

_ I’m already regretting it...  _ Galen hoped his desperation wasn’t showing, but Olman’s shrewd eyes were on his face the whole time. „Well, Palia here made me aware of your schedule for today, Director, so maybe we should find another date...“

„Ah, nonsense!“ Olman’s hand clasped around Galen’s arm and steered him gently, but relentlessly, towards his office. „I’ll  _ make _ the time for you, I’m the director, after all!“ He laughed another of his full-throated laughs; Galen tried to fall in, but only managed a strangled „eh-ehh...“

„Come on in, Faro.“ Olman opened the door to his office and led him to a leather armchair under another oversized painting of human racers - this time, leaping over some hurdles that were placed across a racetrack. Palia followed them and put down the tray with the tea set, then left.

The door closed behind her with a soft click.

Olman sat down in the armchair opposite from Galen and leaned forward, elbows propped on his knees. „I’m a well-off ape, as you’ve probably noticed,“ he said, „and a bit crazy when it comes to human racing. You couldn’t have come to a better customer.“ He chuckled and leaned back in his chair.

„So state your price.“


	19. Chapter 19

When Zana finally left the  _ Sapan Sentinel’s  _ office, the sun was already touching the horizon again. The days were getting noticeably shorter now; soon, the winter storms would start, with heavy rains that would make it impossible to cross the higher passes. They would be trapped south of the mountains... within Urko’s reach.

Only three more days until the big race. They would leave on the same day - Galen had already pre-ordered all their supplies; they were ready to be picked up as soon as they had received their prize money. Zana wasn’t sure if it was wise to anticipate Peet’s win in this way... it seemed to challenge fate. What if he  _ didn’t  _ win? How would they pay all those merchants? Or would they have to hightail out of Sapan, not just with Urko on their heels then, but also with a bunch of enraged businessmen...

Zana had been so deep in her thoughts that she didn’t see the child until she ran into it.  _ „Mothers!“  _ She caught the little Chimp before it could fall to the ground. „Sweetie, are you alright? I’m so sorry, I didn’t pay attention where I was going...“

The little girl peered up to her with big eyes, and Zana felt a little stab in her heart.  _ This could’ve been mine... _

„Iska, watch where you’re going,“ a stern voice sounded from behind her, and the little girl shrank under her hands. Zana straightened and turned around. Halda was slowly walking towards her, a little boy at her one hand, a bulging bag in the other.

„No, it really was my fault, Halda,“ Zana said. „I wasn’t paying attention, and I just ran into her.“

Halda’s frown dissolved into a smile. „Well, I want to teach them not to be stumbling blocks for the grown-ups. Are you out for some groceries, too?“

„Ah... no.“ Zana smiled and pointed at the building behind her. „I’ve been digging through Felga’s notes for the whole afternoon. Ugar was nice enough to let me use their archive...“

„Oh.“ Halda stiffly set down her grocery bag and pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of her robe to wipe the little boy’s nose. It took Zana a moment for the slightly horrifying realization that it wasn’t a hanky; Halda was using one of her numerous scarves for it. „Did you find something interesting?“

The little boy was squirming under his mother’s administrations, and it seemed to Zana that Halda was wiping his nose longer than necessary. She remembered what Felga had told her about Halda and her children: that after the death of her husband, and with no living relatives, Halda was forced to raise them all by her own; and how she was too proud to accept help or even little gifts for the children. It couldn’t be easy to bear the sole responsibility for two small children; Zana was sure she’d be lying awake every night, fretting about having enough money to feed them, to pay the rent...

„Oh, ah, yes.“ She finally remembered that Halda had asked her a question. „Yes, I did - Felga had been investigating Vilam, down at the stadium. It seems that he had been fixing races.. _.  _ The ‘unexplained deaths’ among the humans happened only to those whose owners didn’t comply with his instructions for the races.“

Halda made big eyes. „Why hasn’t he been arrested yet?“

Zana sighed and joined her as the other woman started moving down the sidewalk again. „Because she didn’t have any proof - she had an informant, but she kept them secret even in her notes, so I think she wouldn’t have been able to bring them to court as a witness, either.“ She hesitated. „But if Felga made Vilam believe that she  _ did _ have proof, or a witness, maybe he panicked.“

Halda was silent for a moment. „You remember how we wondered where Vilam got all that  _ Blaze _ from?“ she finally said. „Did Felga’s notes say anything about that?“

„No...“

„You know as well as I that there’s only one logical source.“ Hald flicked her a sideways glance. „Only one ape who has the land, and the resources... and the power...“

„And who has the prefect in his pocket,“ Zana added dryly, remembering Felga’s notes. „He’s unassailable, I’m afraid.“

„And that makes him off limits to us,“ Halda said grimly. „It’s so unfair. Nobody should be above the law!“

„He wouldn’t be above the law, if I had solid evidence against him,“ Zana growled. „But as much as I deplore Olman’s involvement in the whole  _ Blaze _ business, I’m not the right person to stop that. I only want to make sure that Felga’s murderer is brought to justice.“

„But what if  _ he _ is responsible for her death?“ Halda stopped and grabbed Zana’s arm. „Felga has been like a wasp buzzing around his head, for the last ten years! No matter what Olman touches, Felga was there to point at him, shouting every irregularity in his deals from the rooftops. The last thing I knew of was some environmental scandal, where he didn’t plant new trees for the ones he felled, and paid off the city council to refrain from fining him for it...“

„Instead your prefect raised the taxes, and let the community pay for it,“ Zana nodded. „Well, he may have had a motive, Halda, but where’s the evidence?“ She threw up her arms in frustration. „That’s what it all comes down to, evidence! I don’t have any, on either of them!“

Halda stared at her. She was still grabbing her arm, and the grip was becoming painful. „Don’t worry, Alta There is  _ always _ evidence somewhere. Perfect crimes don’t exist. It’s only when nobody is interested in finding it, that people get away with their actions. People who think that just because they’re stinking rich, or powerful, they can ruin other people’s lives until nothing is left.“ She finally let go of Zana’s arm. „But I’m sure if there’s anyone who will find that piece of evidence against Olman, it’s you, Alta. Because you’re not afraid of him.“ She slung her bag over her shoulder and grabbed the hand of her little daughter. „Felga was very lucky to have you as a friend.“

Zana rubbed her arm as she watched her disappear between the houses on the other side of the street.  _ I’m really flattered by your trust, Halda, but you’re wrong. _

_ I  _ am _ afraid of Olman. _

* * *

When Galen had tiptoed into their rooms the night before, Zana had already been fast asleep, just as he had hoped. After his disastrous meeting with Olman, he had headed straight for the next tavern, where he had spent the better part of the evening playing  _ keppa  _ with some other homeless bumblers _ ,  _ until the innkeeper finally kicked them out.

But today, there would be no opportunity to avoid the confession of his blunder. Galen heaped another spoonful of tea leaves into the pot and fervently wished for a mug of cider.

„Galen, nobody but you can stomach that brew,“ Zana scolded him as she peeked over his shoulder. „I need another cup of hot water to dilute it to something drinkable.“

„Sorry, love,“ Galen murmured absently, and poured hot water over the leaves. Zana huffed and joined the humans at the table.

She had sent for Peet to meet them here, instead of going for his usual morning run. It was time for everyone to report back, to pool their newly uncovered information, and then decide how to proceed from there. Galen wasn’t sure if those instructions hadn’t come from Alan, who seemed to have gotten back into Zana’s good graces somehow, but in any case, this was Zana’s project, and he had agreed to follow her lead in it; so he said nothing, and just carried the hot teapot over to them.

„So,“ Zana said briskly, „how did everyone’s mission go? Peet?“

Peet sighed and scratched his brow; he kept his gaze on the tabletop. „Showed them the place, like you wanted, but the shack was abandoned. Someone must’ve gotten wind of the operation, an’ they all broke camp. They’ve probably set up a new one somewhere else in the woods, it’s anyone’s guess where.“

Zana sighed. She had alerted her constable to Peet’s find, and he had - of course! - agreed to have a look. Galen hoped that this flop would cool down the guard’s fervor a bit, then felt bad for being happy about Zana’s misfortune.

„The constable did turn the place upside down,“ Peet added after glancing at Zana’s face. „Said someone alerted him to drugs being used at the racetracks, an’ asked me if I knew anything about that.“ He scoffed. „I told him I’m the new kid on the block, nobody’s telling  _ me _ anything, an’ I won’t be around for long, anyway.“

_ I sure hope that’ll be the case, Peet... _

„But he said he’ll have a look anyway, so maybe he’ll find something at the tracks.“ Peet sniffed and leaned back in his seat, clearly indicating that he considered his part of the mission over.

Alan opened his mouth, then hesitated and looked at Galen. Galen just waved his fingers for him to continue, glad to have a few more moments’ reprieve.

„Something  _ is _ clearly going on down there,“ Alan said, flicking Galen a last, questioning glance. Galen took a deep draw from his mug, trying to set his face into an expressionless mask.

„But I couldn’t get anything specific from Tovar,“ Alan continued, focusing on Zana now. „He knows what’s going on, but he’s afraid to tell. I spoke to some of the racers - no ape would talk to me, except for old Tovar - and they told me that some racers were attacked at night, in their kennels.“ He smiled wryly. „Kennels that were supposedly locked for the night.“

„Yeah, it’s not that difficult to pick a lock,“ Peet interjected. „Even Zana here can do it.“

„But that also means they weren’t attacked at random,“ Alan pointed out. „Someone took the trouble of picking a lock in order to get to the human. Some of them were just beaten severely, but others were killed, and nobody knows how. They were just lying dead in their beds when the stewards unlocked their kennel the next morning.“

Galen frowned at that. „You mean, not even a veterinarian was able to determine the cause of death? That’s... unusual.“

Alan shrugged. „I’m sure their owners did call a veterinarian - after all, a racer is valuable - but the humans I spoke to couldn’t tell me anything about it. Maybe they just weren’t told.“

_ „ _ So it’s still going on,“ Zana mused. „Someone injected them with  _ Blaze _ .“ She straightened in her chair. „Peet, I don’t want you to spend another night down there. It’s too dangerous! That someone could kill  _ you!“ _

„Yeah, they can try,“ Peet said dismissively. „But if I stay, an’ I do get attacked, I can see who it is, an’ then you’ll have your evidence.“

Zana was silent for a moment; then she shook her head. „No. No, it’s too dangerous. I still don’t understand why you insisted on sleeping there in the first place, but whatever it is that keeps you from coming back here, I’m sure we can find a solution.“

Peet shifted in his seat; he looked uncomfortable all of a sudden. „Appreciate your concern,“ he mumbled, „but I’ll stay at the tracks until the race is over. I’m jus’... used to it now. The, the routine.“

Zana threw her hands up in frustration, and turned to Galen. „What did you find out?“

Galen froze for a moment, as all eyes turned to him.

„Ah, ah, Olman and Vilam really had a meeting that night,“ he finally forced out. „I spoke to his secretary, and she told me... she had to stay for taxes, and apparently, Vilam didn’t leave until after the third hour of the night.“

Zana stared at him, dismayed. „Damn,“ she said. It was the first time Galen had heard her swear.

„Are you sure the secretary wasn’t briefed to cover for her boss?“ Peet wanted to know.

„I am sure,“ Galen said morosely. „She was a very young thing, very... new at the job, and eager to please. She was greatly distressed about Felga’s death - apparently she helped out at the charity in her free time...“

„That means that Vilam  _ and  _ Olman are off the table,“ Zana said, stunned. „I... I have no suspects anymore!“

For a moment, everyone was silent. Zana buried her face in her hands. „I’m such a fool.“

„Now wait a moment,“ Alan said quietly. „Do we even know when exactly Felga died? Is your doctor even capable of narrowing down the time of death to more than ‘during that night’? Because if he isn’t, it’s entirely possible that she was killed before the meeting, and deposited at Levar’s kennel after it. Maybe that was even the reason Vilam went to Olman - he had killed her in a fit of rage, and now came for help...“

„Now it’s you who’s speculating, Alan,“ Zana said tiredly.

„But it is possible...“

The conversation had turned away from him, and Galen was terribly tempted to thank fate and leave it at that. Maybe he would be able to figure out something on his own, before he had to hand Peet over to his new owner...

... but what if not? If he had to ask Zana for help, he’d have to tell her about this deal; and if he told her later, her reaction might be even worse than it would be now. Galen squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was now or never, now or never...

„There’s something else,“ he blurted out before his courage could desert him again.

Alan stopped in mid-sentence and turned to look at him, as if he had expected something like this. The others followed suit, Zana looking hopeful, Peet looking wary.

Galen stared down into his mug.

„I, I had asked around in the pub beforehand, to make sure that Olman wasn’t there when I’d question his secretary,“ he began. This was the easy part, so he quickly continued. „I was told he’d be on an inspection of a new patch of forest selected for clearing, on the other side of the valley, so that’s when I went in. I... I had to give a reason for wanting to see Olman, so I pretended that I was there to sell Peet...“

Zana gasped. „You what?“

„It was just a pretense,“ Galen said defensively, still not looking up from his mug, „since I knew he wasn’t there, and I’d ‘miss’ him. I’d express my disappointment, schedule another appointment, after the race, and use the opportunity to chat up the secretary and find out what Olman had been doing when Felga was murdered. It was a good plan!“

„What went wrong?“ Alan asked, his voice full of dark expectations.

Galen heaved a deep, trembling sigh. „Olman turned up, totally unexpected.“

„Someone set you up,“ Alan said.

Galen shrugged. „Or Olman changed his mind - he  _ is _ the boss, he can do that if he wants to. In any case, he suddenly stood in the door, and I was already excusing myself, when that silly girl blurted out that I had come to sell Liquid Fire, and Olman  _ jumped  _ at the opportunity...“

„You sold me.“

Galen looked up; Peet was staring at him, his face and body utterly still. But the skin of his face and neck had reddened, and his pupils were huge. „You sold me like a piece of meat.“

„No, I didn’t, but I had to play along,“ Galen cried. „I had no credible reason to bow out all of a sudden, after making everyone believe that I turned up for no other reason than to sell... uh, my racer! He, he didn’t  _ let _ me bow out!“

„You c... you can’t just  _ sell me off to some goddamn monkey!“  _ Peet was gripping the edge of the table now, and Alan was gripping Peet’s arm, to keep him from leaping over the table and at Galen’s throat, probably. Zana was utterly silent, maybe too stunned to say anything. Yet.

Then she put a hand on Peet’s other arm, and for some reason, that seemed to shake the human out of his rage for a moment. He flinched, and blinked, and in that momentary pause, Zana turned away from him.

„Atiba Galen.“ Her stare was like a bolt through his heart. „What kind of deal did you make with Olman? I want the  _ exact _ words!“

„I, ah, I, I... Olman offered me thirty thousand  _ sembles _ .“

Alan began to laugh helplessly. „Oh my God.“ He shook his head, still laughing; it wasn’t a joyous laughter. „You really couldn’t bow out of that one.“

Galen’s nose twitched violently. „I told him that I didn’t want to forego the prize money, so the deal only becomes valid after the race. I... I thought we’d just leave before that point...“

„And have not only Urko, but the most powerful businessman of the Southern Appalachians on our tail,“ Alan concluded dryly. „I agree, it’s an excellent plan.“

„He won’t let us waltz out of Sapan jus’ like that,“ Peet spoke up. His voice was calm, but slightly unsteady. „If he’s willing to put that much dough on the table, he’ll make sure he gets his money’s worth for it.“ He pushed away from the table and strode to the window. „I’m so screwed.“

„You’ll go to Olman and tell him you reconsidered,“ Zana said. „Tell him I’m against it, tell him... I don’t care  _ what _ you tell him, but Peet is not up for sale! What  _ were _ you thinking?“

„I was thinking that it would be unwise to aggravate the, the ‘most powerful businessman of the southern Iron Mountains’,“ Galen snapped. „Especially since  _ you _ already riled him enough to make him look into our identities!“

„Don’t make this about me!“ Zana stabbed a finger at him. „We’ve been in some really terrible situations before, but never,  _ never _ has there been a  _ moment  _ where we considered sacrificing one of our own to save ourselves!“ She pointed at Peet, who was still staring out of the window, gripping the window frame with white knuckles. „He let himself get captured by Urko to save me! And this is how you pay him back? You should be ashamed of yourself!“

„I never meant for this to happen!“ Galen shouted.

„I don’t care what you  _ intended  _ to happen,“ Zana yelled back. „The only thing that matters is what you will do to make sure it  _ won’t _ happen! Olman can’t get Peet! You find a way to save Peet, or I swear we’ll go our separate ways, Galen! I mean it!“

And she did mean it, Galen could see it in her eyes. Everyone saw it, and the room fell silent all of a sudden, as everyone stared at her. Zana ignored the humans; her eyes were boring into Galen’s, demanding an answer.

„I, I, I’ll make sure Peet won’t end up with Olman,“ Galen stuttered. „I don’t know how yet, but... I’ll make sure of it. I promise.“

„You better do, Galen,“ Zana said, and her voice was deadly calm. „Because I just made a promise, too.“


	20. Chapter 20

The street was deserted, just some discarded flyers flapping at the wall of the building he was crouching against. He’d be late to school again, but this was dangerous terrain, and if they got him this time... he tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry. Last time, the big kid had missed his heart by an inch. Next time, he’d aim better.

He wandered down the lonely country road, wondering where Al and the apes were - had he been scouting ahead, or was he trying to catch up? He couldn’t remember, and so he couldn’t decide if he should slow down or hurry up, and the only thing he knew was that someone was looking for him, and he should find somewhere to hide, maybe an abandoned building, or a subway entrance - _no, not a tunnel, not down there..._

His heart froze, then stumbled on as he found himself on the table, _that_ table, and now he was aware that he was dreaming, again, but this time, he was looking up at the ceiling, so maybe it wouldn’t be _that_ dream again, maybe, but he very much wanted to wake up now, please...

Apes were there, but he couldn’t see them, it was too dark, they were talking about him, laughing, planning something, something bad, he knew it with the certainty of the dreamer, and although he couldn’t make out the words, the sounds filled him with dread. They were malicious, gleeful, excited...

Urko! Panic flooded him, setting his heart racing and tugging at his limbs, but he was bound to the table, and he couldn’t move, and Urko was there, and he had his ANSA knife, _Last time I missed you by an inch, Pete, but today, you’re not going to run._

The tip of the knife gleamed in the darkness, he could see it perfectly as it descended on him, Urko would plunge it through his eye and into his brain, he’d cut out the parts that made him think, and dream, and speak-

Burke jerked awake with a guttural groan, limbs still frozen under the cover. The fabric clung to his sweat-drenched chest, and his neck was itching where wet strands of hair coiled against the skin-

No, his neck was itching because _there was an ape standing at his bed-_

A cold pain slid into his right arm like a snake’s fang, and Burke rolled away without thinking, yanking the thing from his vein with the movement.

A heavy hand fell on his neck and jerked him back, and for a second, Burke was frozen in Urko’s grip like a kitten.

_Not Urko, can’t be Urko-_

He rammed his elbow back and upward, and felt it connect with the ape’s face. His attacker let out a choked yelp, and slammed him back into the mattress, face-down. Something heavy dropped on Burke’s leg, and panic slammed through him, _Urko had his knife, his ANSA knife-_

Knife. Under his pillow.

His hand closed around the hilt, just as the pain slid into the back of his calf again, and a burning sensation entered his leg. He twisted in the ape’s grip and rammed the knife into its shoulder. It met bone and slid off - he’d hit the shoulder blade, he hadn’t been able to aim properly, but it was enough to make the ape yelp in pain, and stumble away from his bed.

Burke growled and jumped out of bed, but the sheet had tangled around his legs and brought him to his knees again. The burning sensation in his leg was melting deeper into his muscle, flooding his leg and groin with heat, and his racing heart picked up speed again, a clenching pain directly behind his breastbone. He stumbled to his feet, ready to bury his knife in that monkey’s skull, but his attacker had bolted.

The room was swaying all around him, the shadows sharp and unnaturally close all of a sudden. Burke stumbled to the open door, determined to get that ape and finish it off, but a wave of nausea hit him and made him grip the doorframe to keep himself from breaking down. If the damn monkey came back, it would finish _him_ off, not the other way round. Sweat was rolling down his back, and the pain in his chest was so intense now that Burke was sure he was having a heart attack.

_Damn monkey poisoned me..._

It was useless to call for help - the only ones who could hear him were the other racers, and they were all locked in. And he was in no shape to go outside and look for help - even if he didn’t collapse after three steps, he’d be in no shape to fight if the ape was pouncing on him again.

Burke shut the door and leaned against it, trembling and sweating, the sound of his own breathing loud in his ears.

If the ape came back...

He weaved back to his bed and yanked at it. He felt drunk, the vertigo getting worse by the minute, and he was glad to have a bedpost to hold on to. He just hoped he wouldn’t fall unconscious before he was done.

He managed to push the cot against the door, blocking anyone from entering. It would be a problem for the stewards if he did die tonight, but at least he’d preserve the crime scene. Whatever the ape had done to him, they had dropped the thing, and it was still here, somewhere.

His heart was trying to break through his chest, and his clothes were drenched with sweat. He badly wanted to piss, but he wasn’t sure he’d find the bucket in his state. Burke gingerly crawled back into bed; maybe his heart rate would come down if he didn’t move.

Maybe he’d die in here. To his surprise, Burke found that the thought didn’t bother him.

At least the dreams would end, then.

* * *

„Tomorrow is the big race.“ Zana stared out of the window, ignoring her tea.

Virdon sat down at the table as a silent prompt for her to join him there. „I know.“

„I bet Olman will grab Peet as soon as he crosses the finish line,“ Zana continued. She turned away from the window. „We should leave today, before... I didn’t even think of asking Galen if he _signed_ anything.“

„If we run now, Olman will send his people after us,“ Virdon pointed out. He took a sip of his tea, fervently wishing for coffee.

„We’ve escaped Urko for so long now that this doesn’t frighten me half as much as it should,“ Zana muttered, and finally crossed the room to sit down at the table.

„Maybe Galen could forge new papers for Pete,“ Virdon suggested. „Make you the sole owner, so that his deal is void.“

„We let everyone believe that we’re married, which means there is no separate ownership.“ Zana blew on her tea and stared at the wall behind Virdon, deep in thought. „It would be a bit suspicious to suddenly admit that we’re not married at all. Olman is looking into our identities anyway...“

„But it would buy us time,“ Virdon pointed out.

„It would just pin us down here, while the court tries to decide who is right,“ Zana said darkly. „And then they’d probably decide in Olman’s favor. He even has the prefect in his pocket...“

The door crashed open with a bang. Zana’s eyes went wide. Virdon spun around in his seat, deeply alarmed.

A pudgy guard stood in the door, out of breath and glaring fiercely at Zana, as if he was holding her responsible for his state. „Rogan needs you at the tracks. Now.“

Zana had already jumped to her feet. „What’s... Peet!“

„Your human went crazy, you better calm it down before the constable has to _put_ it down,“ the guard growled, and turned away.

Virdon jumped to his feet, too, toppling his chair. „I’m coming with you!“ The sudden movement sent a flare of pain through his hip, and he had to grab the edge of the table for support.

Zana flicked him a worried glance. „I’m all for it, Ala... Nait, but I’ll go ahead with officer... uhm, Junior. You catch up with us there.“ With that, she was out of the door. Virdon could hear her quick steps down the stairs, as she hurried after the officer.

 _Damn that leg!_ He pushed away from the table and limped after them.

It felt like an eternity before he could see the white building of the racing club; his leg had decided to choose this morning to act up, and for the first time in weeks, Virdon had wished for his crutch. He was hot and sweaty, despite the overcast sky and the cool gusts of wind that were tearing at his vest and flapping the banners for the Three Valleys Racing Competition high above him.

The racers were out on the tracks like every morning, and at first glance, everyone was keeping to their usual routine - trainers shouting at the humans, clockers timing the workouts, grooms bustling between the kennels, and from the canteen, Virdon could hear the clatter of earthen mugs and bowls.

It was when he turned into the main alley of the kennel section that he saw the first signs of disturbance: hushed murmurs, grooms clustered in groups, staring down the alley to where the guards had fenced off a kennel... Burke’s cabin. The door was wide open, but Virdon couldn’t see inside without crossing the tape.

Burke wasn’t there, which could be a good sign or a bad sign. A groom pointed Virdon to a building at the end of the main alley that cut through the kennel area.

He knew that something was gravely wrong the moment he stepped through the door. Burke was still nowhere to be seen, but Virdon could feel the tension crackling in the room, could see it in the apes’ stance as they turned to face him - Zana, and a young guard; Virdon recognized him as the constable who had witnessed Burke’s earlier outburst, when his friend had learned that he wouldn’t get his share of the prize money for that first race.

„He’s in there,“ Zana said without preamble. She gestured to the door behind her. „I thought it better to wait for you, you’re his friend... and a human.“

Virdon stepped past her and peered through the tiny window in the door blade. It only showed a small section of the room, and he couldn’t see or hear Burke.

He turned away from the window. „What happened?“

Zana shrugged helplessly and gestured to the guard. He was holding a hand to his face, and Virdon saw that he was pressing a bloodied piece of cloth against his cheekbone.

„Someone attacked it... him, last night,“ the constable said, after an inquisitive glance at Zana. „Your friend was able to fight off the attacker, and blocked the door from the inside. When the grooms couldn’t open it today, and took it off its hinges, they found him unconscious; then they called us.“ He paused and peeled the cloth from his face to frown at it; Virdon saw that he had a deep gash in his cheek, probably from a knife.

Virdon drew a cautious breath and tried not to show his alarm. A human attacking an ape forfeited his life; did they expect him to coax Pete out of that room, so they could make an example of him?

„I had him brought here for questioning after the veterinarian had examined him,“ the guard continued, and Virdon shared a look of understanding and dread with Zana. A confined space, an ape at the other side of the table... it must’ve stirred dark memories in Burke.

„And he suddenly flipped,“ the ape concluded. „To be honest, the only reason he’s still alive is because I figured he’s still under the influence. He can’t help himself.“

Virdon looked to Zana, confused. „Under the influence...?“

„Dehni had been injected with _Blaze…_ maybe even adulterated _Blaze_ _,“_ Zana said. „Because he fought off the attacker, they hadn’t been able to inject him with the full dosis, but it did affect him quite a bit.“ Her eyes told him that she knew what had really set Burke off, but went with the officer’s theory, and Virdon silently agreed with her about it.

„I’ll talk to him.“

„He has a knife,“ the guard said. „I don’t want to know where he got it from, but see to it that he doesn’t have it anymore when he leaves that room, and I’ll forget about its existence.“

Virdon nodded wordlessly; that was by far more generous that he’d have expected from any ape save Zana. He wondered fleetingly what she had said or done to placate the officer, but the thought dropped from his mind as soon as he pushed down the door handle.

„Pete? It’s me.“ He had said it quietly, hoping the guard behind him wouldn’t catch him using Burke’s real name; his friend wouldn’t react to ‘Danny’ now. „I’m coming in. I’m alone - don’t come at me with that knife, okay?“

No answer. Virdon slowly pushed the door open a bit, and squeezed through.

Burke was waiting to his right, outside the field of vision that the tiny window had provided. He was standing one foot away from the wall, leaving room to maneuver, and with his weight equally balanced on both feet, looking deceptively relaxed. Only his tight grip on his ANSA knife betrayed his state of mind.

That, and the thousand mile stare. Virdon wondered if Burke recognized him at all right now.

He let his gaze wander over the toppled chairs and skewed table, and decided that sitting down there was the worst thing he could do in this situation. With a last glance at Burke, he slowly limped to the table and just leaned against it. „I’m unarmed, Pete - there’s no need to push that knife in my face.“ He turned up his palms for good measure.

He saw Burke moisten his lips, and jerk a glance towards the door, where, as they both knew perfectly well, the apes were waiting, and probably listening in. „They sent you to put me to the mat?“

„Zana is worried about how you’re doing, Pete,“ Virdon said mildly. „As am I.“

Burke huffed, and shifted on his feet, but his eyes never left Virdon’s face, and the knife didn’t waver. „’m doin’ fine. It’s like a fucking holiday.“

„You attacked a police officer,“ Virdon pointed out.

Burke frowned at him. „No, I didn’t.“

Maybe he really didn’t remember it. PTSD and drugs were a potent mix. Virdon nodded at Burke’s hand. „Then why are you holding a knife in your hand?“

Burke stared at him, lips twitching. „I jus’... I like the feel. It’s a fine piece of work.“

„Quality work,“ Virdon smiled. „But I’d like to talk to you, and I’d prefer you to put it away for that conversation.“

Burke’s gaze jerked to the door, back to Virdon, back to the door.

„Nobody will come through that door, Pete,“ Virdon said. „It’s just you and me now.“

Burke drew a heavy breath, then another; then he hid the knife under his shirt, and leaned against the wall.

Virdon wasn’t fooled; Burke’s body hummed with tension. „What happened last night?“

Burke shrugged. „Some damn monkey tried to off me with _Blaze,_ I chased them off, barricaded the door. End of story. Nothing happened, I’m fine, I’m missing my morning workout for the big race... that’s tomorrow, in case you’ve forgotten.“

„I don’t give a damn about that race,“ Virdon said. „Could you see who attacked you?“

„It was the middle of the fucking night, Al,“ Burke growled. „An’ they don’t outfit our cages with lamps.“

„It’s a good thing you managed to fight them off despite that... Until now, they succeeded with every assault on a human.“ Virdon paused for a moment. „You should’ve listened to Zana when she told you to stay at the inn-“

„No.“

The rejection was swift and decisive, and Virdon frowned. „What’s going on between the two of you?“

„Nothing. Look, Al, I appreciate your concern, but can I go back to training now? ‘Cause that’s the whole point of why we’re still here, an’...“

„Sure.“ It was no use trying to talk to Burke now, in here, while he was so upset. Virdon pushed away from the table. „I just need you to give me the knife...“

„Can’t do.“ Burke melted into the wall, his face shuttered. „That knife saved my life last night. I need it.“

„Pete...“

Burke took a step away from him. Giving himself space. „I’m warning you, Al...“

„No, I’m warning you, Major - I won’t tolerate your insubordination.“ Virdon wasn’t sure if falling back to the old hierarchy would shake Burke out of his trance, but he had to try. „We’re outnumbered here, and the apes won’t let you go through this door while armed. You can surrender that weapon to them... or to me.“

„They won’t let _you_ keep it, either,“ Burke said hoarsely. „We’re subhu... subapes. Whatever. I’m not giving it up to a monkey again.“

„What about Zana?“ Virdon suggested. „She could... safeguard it for you, for a little while.“

Burke faltered a bit at that. It struck Virdon all of a sudden how tired the younger man looked. Burke had been suffering from insomnia even back on the _Icarus;_ it had gotten better while they had lived with the tribe of mutated humans, even though his sleep had stayed light.

But since his capture by Urko, Burke had been haunted by nightmares, and although he tried to keep the problem to himself, they were living at too close quarters for Virdon not to notice.

He had kept his distance, figuring that Burke would break the subject when he felt ready to. But now it looked as if the subject was breaking him instead. Virdon bent down, put a toppled chair on its feet, and sat, glad to rest his leg a bit. „What’s eating at you, Pete?“

Burke eyed him warily. „Dunno what you’re talking about.“

Virdon just looked at him.

Burke raked a hand through his hair and averted his gaze. „I’ve been attacked by a big-ass ape trying to kill me dead, okay? Excuse me if I’m a bit tense!“

„We both know this has been going on for longer than just last night,“ Virdon said. „Ever since you escaped Urko.“

The silence in the room was suddenly solid, like a block of ice.

„I didn’t escape,“ Burke muttered at last. „You busted me out. I was ready to call it a day.“

„I know,“ Virdon said. „And I have the feeling that hasn’t changed, and it worries me.“

Burke gave him an annoyed, sidelong glance. „I’m not suicidal, Al.“

„You’re erratic,“ Virdon said flatly. „And you’re plagued by nightmares. Do you have flashbacks, too? Moments where you’re not here, but back there? Like just now, when you attacked that guard?“

Burke tilted his head back and studied the ceiling. „I didn’t attack anyone...“

„So the table and the chairs fell over on their own? That officer sports a gash in his cheek that looks as if someone cut him with a knife.“

Burke said nothing, just inhaled slowly, deeply.

„You really don’t remember it,“ Virdon said quietly.

Burke shook his head.

„What do you remember?“

Burke frowned. „Going in. And then... you were there, talking.“

Virdon rubbed his hand over his mouth. „You had a flashback in here, Pete, and you flipped. And that’s dangerous, for you and for all of us.“

He didn’t know what kind of reaction he had expected from Burke, but his friend just stared at him with a face that betrayed no emotion - no surprise, no dread, no shame, nothing but exhaustion.

„I want to help you, Pete,“ Virdon tried again. „But that’ll be doomed from the start, if you don’t even admit that there’s a problem-“

Burke laughed, a bitter huff. „Help me? How the hell do you wanna help me?“

„However I can.“ Virdon leaned forward in his seat. „You just have to _let_ me. Just let me know... what I can do. What would help.“

 _„Nothing_ helps, okay, Al?“ Burke exploded. „Nothing helps. Bullet to the head, that’d help.“ He began to prowl the room like a caged tiger, hitting the wall with his fist at every turn.

„I’d like to try a less extreme solution, if you don’t mind,“ Virdon said dryly.

„You’re not gonna go all Freud on me, Al! What do you expect, that I’ll show you where the bad ape touched me with this here doll? No fucking way!“

„I don’t have an ape doll, so I guess we’ll have to do without.“ Virdon couldn’t help himself.

Burke didn’t laugh. Virdon turned serious again.

„I know I’m not a therapist,“ he said. „But I’m the best option we have, under the circumstances. And aside from the danger that your out-of-control episodes pose for you and us - this just ain’t no way to live, Pete. You’re my friend; it pains me to see you suffer like that. At least... at least let us try. You can’t give up just like that. That’s not the Pete Burke I know.“

Burke stopped an arm’s length before the opposite wall with an exasperated moan. „Okay, _fine,_ I’ll tell you everything you wanna know, just not right now, okay? Let’s, let’s get this race behind me, and let’s get out of this fucking shithole of a town, and then you can ask me anything.“

„This isn’t about satisfying my curiosity...“

„I don’t give a damn about your motives, Al, but if you think that stirring up that shit is gonna help me with anything except giving me new material for my nightmares, you’re fucking delusional. But I’m gonna do it so you’re happy. Now for the love of your god, get me out of this box!“

Virdon rose from his chair. „I need your knife, Pete. I’ll give it to Zana, and she’ll give it back to you once we’re out of the valley.“

Burke closed his eyes and drew his lips through his teeth. „She’s gotta keep it with her, she can’t put it on a shelf or, or give it to Galen... or anyone.“

Virdon nodded and held out his hand. „I’ll make sure to tell her.“

With a slow motion as if he was pushing his hand through jelly, Burke eased the knife out of its sheath and handed it to Virdon. After staring at it for a moment, he reached behind himself to unstrap the sheath, so that Zana wouldn’t have to carry a blank blade.

Virdon took both with the exaggerated care of a man who had just made a holy vow. „Thank you.“

Burke stared at the knife, as if he wasn’t expecting to see it ever again and had to memorize its shape.

Then he lifted his gaze to Virdon’s face. „I’m glad that you’re happy, Colonel, an’ all the apes, too,“ he said. „Let’s just hope that ape-maniac won’t come back tonight, ‘cause now I’ve got nothing to chase ‘em away with anymore.“


	21. Chapter 21

Zana turned away from the door. Whatever happened in that room now was in Alan’s hands, and if there was anyone who could calm down Peet, it was his... Elder. She still wasn’t sure about the humans’ system of hierarchy, and whenever she resolved to pick up her studies, some new catastrophe came crashing down on them, and she forgot about it again.

„Thank you for calling me,“ she said to Rogan. „Instead of...“

„I heard that Olman bid on him,“ Rogan said, watching her with an unreadable expression. „He wouldn’t be thrilled if I’d shot his next acquisition.“

„That’s your reason?“ Zana asked, shocked.

„I just saved your prize human, Alta,“ Rogan drawled. „Shouldn’t you be more appreciative?“

Zana exhaled heavily. „I was against this deal. I’m still against it.“

„Ah. Sorry if I misjudged you.“ With a last glance through the door’s little window, Rogan turned away and sat down at a workbench. „But I doubt Olman will let you get out of that deal again.“

Zana followed him to the workbench, and took the blood-soaked handkerchief from his hand. „Let me have a look... that’ll need stitches. I’m so sorry, Rogan... Dehni... he’s... his former owner didn’t treat him very well...“

It was her standard excuse for Peet’s erratic behavior, but Zana felt that this safety net was getting more and more threadbare. They would have to address this... once they were out of Sapan.

Well outside of Olman’s reach. And Urko’s. It seemed they were collecting enemies, not shedding them.

She had to focus on their more immediate problems. „Were you able to learn anything?“

Rogan took the handkerchief from her and pressed it against his cheek again. „Not really. He told me it was dark, and he couldn’t see who was attacking him, and afterwards, he was already feeling the effects of the drug, so he wasn’t able to call for help.“ He nodded towards the door. „Maybe his friend can get a bit more out of him.“

„But now there’s no doubt that someone _is_ producing and distributing _Blaze_ here,“ Zana said, feeling equally triumphant and unnerved.

„We’ve been aware of that for a while now,“ Rogan said, sounding slightly annoyed. „We just never found any evidence, and that hasn’t changed.“ He spread his free arm. „A mysterious attacker that vanished into the night. That’s not exactly a lead you can follow.“

This had to be so frustrating. How did Rogan not lose all motivation in his job? Zana nibbled at her lip, thinking about the bottles in her handbag.

„What about that drug kitchen in the woods that Dehni showed you?“ she asked. „Dehni told me everyone was gone, but couldn’t you find at least traces of what they did there?“

Rogan inhaled slowly, and averted his gaze. „The doctor is still looking into it, but...“ He tiredly rubbed his eyes with his free hand. „I’ve been told to stay away from this case. I just brought a murderer in, I ‘shouldn’t try to grab more nuts than fit in my hand’.“

The quotation marks were clearly audible. Zana raised a brow. „Who said that?“

Rogan’s smile was completely mirthless. „My boss.“

Zana remembered Felga’s notes about Olman’s deal with the prefect. Of course - if the prefect was already in the tycoon’s pocket, the lower ranks wouldn’t have any qualms to accept a piece of the cake, either.

She propped her hands on the table and leaned forward until her face was only inches away from the guard’s. „If there was any doubt in my mind that Olman is the mastermind behind the whole affair, it’s gone,“ she said in a low voice. „Even if Vilam killed Felga, Olman was behind it - Felga was the only one who cared enough about this valley to even try to expose him. Think about that, Rogan - one ape in the whole valley, who wasn’t a coward.“

She straightened, still watching his face.

Rogan scowled. „I said nothing about dropping the case.“

Zana allowed herself a slight smile. „I’m glad I didn’t misjudge you then.“

„It doesn’t mean that anything will come from it, other than me losing my job,“ Rogan warned her.

„I’m glad you’re willing to take that risk,“ Zana said softly.

Rogan huffed a laugh. „Well, if things go sideways, I can always take my old friend up on his offer, and go down south to join General Urko’s city police.“

Zana felt her smile growing tense. „Let’s hope that won’t be necessary. This valley urgently needs a good officer.“

Rogan lazily knocked a fist against his chest and bowed in his seat. „My, my, Alta,“ he purred. „Who’d have thought you could also say nice things to a man?“

„Well, my compliments are not for free,“ Zana retorted dryly. „They have to be earned.“

Rogan’s smile grew calculating. „In that case, I’d like to put a few more _sembles_ into my account, ma’am...“

Zana bit her lip to choke the nervous laughter rising in her throat. Who’d have thought this could be so much fun? „Well, in that case,“ she said casually, „I wanted to talk to Levar about that court case Felga was planning against him.“

Rogan frowned. „Why do you want to talk to _him_ again?“

Zana sat down beside him. „Because Felga wrote in her notes that Levar swore to her that he had found the drugs in _Vilam’s_ possession somewhere. There’s a lead for you, officer!“

„Then _I_ should be the one questioning him, not a civilian.“ The moment of levity was gone; Rogan was frowning, all police officer again.

„But would he talk to you? He thinks you don’t believe him anyway, what with that complaint against him for using _Blaze_ by, supposedly, Felga, and a dead Felga on his property. He thinks you took the easy way out.“

Rogan wasn’t convinced. „All the more reason he should be happy I’m giving him a chance to redeem himself. I can offer him a deal, you can’t.“

„I can tell him that he can make a deal with you, but first we need to get him to talk at all!“ Zana hesitated; then she put her hand on his arm.

She was surprised at the heat beating against her palm. She and Galen had been sleeping in separate beds for so long, she had almost forgotten how nice it was to touch a man...

_Focus!_

„Levar doesn’t see me as his enemy,“ she said. „That’s the big advantage I have over you, Rogan. Let me talk to him first - I’ll tell you everything anyway. And if I can convince him to accept that deal you offer, you have your first true witness in this case.“

Rogan rubbed his face, staring straight ahead. Zana waited, her hand still on his arm. She wasn’t sure if she left it there because she knew he liked it... or because _she_ liked it.

Best not to probe this thought too deeply. „There’s something else.“

She half expected another flirtatious glance, but the look he gave her was wary. Guard instinct, probably. „What else?“

Zana took a deep breath. Presenting her evidence had felt much more triumphant in her imagination. „I can prove that Vilam uses _Blaze._ If nothing else, that will convince Levar to talk to me. And I’m talking of real evidence, not... _gossip.“_

„Blazes, that one really irked you, didn’t it?“ Rogan murmured. „I didn’t mean to offend y...“

„I found two bottles of _Blaze_ in Vilam’s desk,“ Zana said hastily, before her courage left her. „And I, I secured the evidence.“

Rogan stared at her.

Zana stared back, her heart pounding against her ribs.

Rogan blinked and slowly moistened his lips. „You found... how did you get to Vilam’s desk?“

„I picked the lock to his office,“ Zana confessed.

„You picked the lock,“ Rogan repeated.

Zana nodded.

Rogan rubbed a hand over his mouth. Then he rose and wandered to the other end of the room.

„You picked the lock to Vilam’s office,“ he said, staring at the wall before him. „Went to his desk, rummaged through his desk, discovered... _whatever,_ and, what, stuffed it into your handbag and climbed out of the window?“

„No, the door was still open,“ Zana said meekly.

„Cesar!“ Rogan groaned.

„Now you have something to show for, when the chief or the prefect try to take you off the case,“ Zana argued.

Rogan whirled around. „Something to show for? I have a case of breaking and entering that you just confessed to, and unlawfully obtained _stuff_ that I can’t use in court, or did you think of forging a search warrant while you were polishing you lock picks?“

His anger rolled around Zana like thunderclouds, making her feel hot inside her fur, hot and choked. Her evidence, her daring... it had been for nothing. Worse, it had made Rogan’s job more difficult, and Levar’s chances of being cleared of the accusations more dire. She hadn’t helped - she had meddled, like an over-zealous matron with too much time on her hands, trying to fill the emptiness in her life with other people’s concerns.

The bottles in her handbag were blessedly silent; if she moved now, they’d clink against each other, and confirm Rogan’s accusations. So she just shrank into the wall, and said nothing.

Rogan glanced at her face, and stopped mid-sentence. „This is all my fault,“ he said with a deep sigh. „I encouraged you, I kept you in the loop... I know you wanted to help, Alta. But for the love of the Mothers, don’t. You’ll just endanger yourself. If that old fool had stumbled upon you in that office of his, he could’ve harmed you.“

Zana could’ve told him that Vilam had stumbled upon her, and how she had made sure he wouldn’t harm her, but she felt too mortified to say anything.

She was saved from a reply by Junior, who burst into the tack room with such force that the door crashed against the wall and bounced back. At any other time, Zana would’ve felt annoyed by the younger guard’s penchant for dramatic entrances, but this time, her shoulders sagged with relief, as Rogan’s scorching attention swiveled away from her.

With two long strides, he had crossed the room and now loomed over Junior, who immediately broke into a furious mutter.

Zana saw Rogan stiffen; then the turned around and Zana felt herself pinned down once more under his fierce glare. „Did anything else happen there that I should know of?“

She opened her mouth, but it took her a moment to form words. „Anything else?“

Rogan turned up his palm. „Anything you hadn’t mentioned yet?“

The feeling of an impending thunderstorm returned; the air seemed too warm, too heavy. „I, I... Vilam did stumble over me,“ Zana confessed. „I told him that you and my husband knew where I was, and that you’d come looking for me if I wasn’t back within an _atseht.“_

Rogan was still watching her, his face unreadable. „And then?“

Zana tried to take a deep breath, and found that she couldn’t. „I told him he’d better come to you and confess his crimes, because you were on to him anyway.“

„And then?“

Zana shrugged, nonplussed. „Nothing. He let me go.“ She looked from him to Junior, and a clammy feeling settled in her gut. „Something happened... to him, right?“

„They found his body in one of his racer’s kennels, down at the stadium,“ Rogan said grimly.

For a moment, her head felt so dizzy that Zana had to grab the edge of the bench she was sitting on, grateful that she was sitting right now. „Mothers!“

Vilam was... had he been on his way to the watch to confess, as she had told him? Had one of Olman’s goons been sent to stop him? But how had Olman known?

Or had Vilam been stupid enough to try and convince the tycoon to come clean, too?

„Are you _sure_ that nothing else happened between you and Vilam last night?“ Rogan asked, and Zana thought she could hear a tinge of despair in his voice.

With a jolt, she realized that Rogan was grasping for a reason not to arrest her for the murder of Padraman Vilam. After she just had presented herself as the most likely candidate - motive, means, and opportunity.

„I swear I had nothing to do with his death,“ she said, and rose. The bottles clinked in her bag as her thighs brushed against it. „You accused me of meddling, Rogan, and you were right, and I’m deeply sorry I made your life more difficult by it. But my meddling attempted to find _evidence,_ so that you could arrest the true culprit and bring him to court! I tried to serve the law, not take it into my own hands.“

Rogan stared her down for another moment. Then he turned away abruptly, slapped Junior’s shoulder and murmured something. Junior nodded and left, not without a last glance over his shoulder that shot daggers to Zana.

„Stay here,“ Rogan said. „Take your humans, and go back to your inn, and _stay there,_ Alta. For the love of the Mothers, stay away as far as you can from any future crime scene.“

He left without looking back.

* * *

Zana stepped out of the watch house, and into a fiery sunset that spilled an ember glow over every roof; against all expectations - and his better judgment, as Rogan had made clear - she had still been allowed to talk to Levar about the bottles of _Blaze_ the kennel owner had found in his rival’s possession. Rogan’s decision had told her a great deal about the state of the investigations; by now, the constable had to be harbouring grave doubts about Levar’s guilt, but was as empty-handed as she was, unable to present a more probable culprit.

They were grasping at straws, while the days were running out for Levar. And with Vilam...

She hadn’t had time yet to come to grips with that latest development. Vilam had been her main suspect. _The_ suspect. And now he was dead.

If she didn’t manage to find something against Olman, Levar would be dead, too.

And Olman would own Peet.

The day had fled again, while she had been cooped up with a shocked and enraged Levar. He hadn’t known anything about an impending court appointment - that much at least Zana had been willing to believe. It had taken her a long time before Levar had been able to focus on her questions again. He had been genuinely rattled.

„I can’t believe she’d do this to me!“ he had repeated over and over again.

Zana was still not sure if the complaint had really been written by Felga, but she had no idea who else could have done it - who else could have known about the drug in Levar’s possession, except for Vilam himself, and he wouldn’t have wanted to draw attention to the matter, at least not before Levar would’ve used it to blackmail him, which Levar had emphatically denied.

„I hadn’t made up my mind about what I was gonna do with the stuff,“ he had told her. „I had been half of a mind to go to the police with it myself, I mean, I finally had evidence that he had been killing off my racers!“

„Then why didn’t you go?“ Zana had wanted to know, wondering if Levar knew more about ‘unlawfully acquired evidence’ than she had.

Levar snorted. „Because nothing would’ve come of it. Chief Tugal isn’t interested in stirring up trouble at the racetracks. He doesn’t want to spoil Olman’s fun.“

Olman. No matter where Zana started to lift the covers, in the end she always found him under them. The only thing she was certain of was that he hadn’t been the one behind the attack on Peet - Olman wanted him alive, to use him for Mothers knew what.

Levar had just shrugged when she had asked him about Vilam’s supplier. „How would I know? They didn’t supply _me._ I found it in his locker, which isn’t the smartest place to hide it, but Vilam isn’t the smartest guy to begin with.“

After Vilam had found his locker empty, he had probably decided that it would be safer to store the drug on his own, heavily guarded premises - only to have her raiding his desk, Zana had thought wryly. And whatever he had done next to protect himself, had killed him instead.

She hadn’t told Levar about his rival’s death. That was something Rogan would do, or not do, whatever he deemed necessary. Zana had to worry about other things.

Vilam had been found by a groom, lying behind one of his racers’ kennels - much like Felga, come to think of it. He had shown no outward signs of injury, and he hadn’t been strangled. Zana suspected that he had been injected with _Blaze,_ the same way the unknown attacker had tried to kill Peet.

So had it been the same attacker? Two assaults in one night, with the same method, pointed strongly in that direction. But what was the connection between Peet and Vilam? Vilam must have gone straight to the tracks after her little speech about making confessions and negotiating deals. Had he run into his killer by accident, or had they planned on meeting there anyway?

But if that killer had been the one to attack Peet with _Blaze,_ did that mean that Vilam hadn’t been the only one to terrorize the kennel owners? Maybe Olman had more than one brute in his employ... maybe the internal rivalry was meant to improve the performance of his enforcers. And of course, you always had a backup if one of them suddenly discovered his conscience, as Vilam had found out.

And then there was the similarity of the placement of the bodies between Vilam and Felga. But maybe that was just a coincidence - if you killed someone on a racetrack, there was a high probability that the fight had just happened to take place in the kennel section.

Still... three murders - if everything had went according to plan - three murders in half a moon, in a small community... Zana couldn’t believe that the citizens of Sapan had suddenly all gone on a murder spree. It had to be the same person. Which meant that Halda had been right from the beginning: Levar was innocent.

„Alta! I heard about your human! Is the poor thing alright?“

Zana blinked and jerked her gaze up from the cobblestones. As if her musings had conjured her out of the evening air, Halda stood at the corner of the bakers’ and the butchers’ street, her hands deep in the pockets of her robe, the dying sun lighting her fur into a crimson halo around her face. Her voice was muffled by the plum-colored scarf she had wrapped around her neck and chin to shield herself against the chilly air.

Zana shivered and wished she had thought of wearing her woolen scarf, too. The temperatures had dropped sharply over the last few days. But Junior had made it so urgent... and it had been urgent, with Peet out of his mind...

„He’s recovering,“ she said. „But the whole affair has shaken him quite a bit.“

Halda quickly crossed the distance between them. „I can imagine,” she said. „And I heard about Vilam… I have a good idea who’s behind _that_ \- Olman.“

Zana silently agreed with her, but after the disaster with Rogan, she didn’t want to give Halda any more fuel - if Halda went and got herself killed, like Vilam had done, just because she had run her mouth... that would be something she would never forgive herself.

„Why would _Olman,_ of all people, kill Vilam?“ she hedged. „He’s the president of the racing commission, the races are his favorite pastime, and Vilam’s racers were part of his entertainment.“

„To cover his tracks,“ Halda hissed. „He killed Vilam so that Vilam couldn’t talk to the police and tell them who ordered him to kill Felga... and then he tried to kill your racer to make it look as if a maniac was killing everything that moves on the racetrack!“

„That... sounds a bit far-fetched,“ Zana said slowly. Spoken out loud, it did sound more fantastic than it had in her own mind.

Halda grabbed a fistful of her robe, and brought her face close to Zana’s. „Think about it!“ she whispered urgently. „Felga had devoted her _whole life_ to bringing Olman down for what he had done to her family. And then she began to investigate Olman’s drug business... the racing was just a convenient front for that! So she had to die, and Olman sent Vilam, because Vilam was neck-deep in debt with him! And when Vilam got cold feet, Olman had him killed off, too, and had your human attacked, to make it look as if Vilam had surprised its attacker, and had been killed in the scuffle. It all fits together!“

„But why would Olman have killed and injured all those other racers before that?“ Zana asked, desperately trying to get Halda off that train of thought.

Halda impatiently waved her question away. „That hadn’t been him, that had been Vilam, to punish the other owners who didn’t obey his orders when he tried to fix a race. It was just convenient for Olman to use that same method, to hide his tracks when he killed Vilam!“

„Alright, it sounds logical,“ Zana admitted, _except that Olman wouldn’t target a human he had offered to buy for thirty thousand sembles,_ but Halda couldn’t know that, and Zana wasn’t inclined to tell her about Galen’s blunder. The less people knew about it, the better. „But we don’t have a shred of evidence for your theory.“

„And we’ll never have,“ Halda said darkly. Zana wished she’d let go of her robe.

„Felga had been trying to nail Olman for his misdeeds ever since we left school,“ Halda continued. „No, even before that! She once even applied for a summer job at his office, trying to find evidence for his shady deals! It took them a full moon to catch on to that and kick her out, and Olman _still_ managed to wiggle out! He’s buying everyone, Chief Tugal, the prefect, the judges at court... if you wait for some piece of evidence to turn up miraculously, you’ll wait until The Tree has Died.“

Zana took a step back, forcing Halda to release her. „Then it’s hopeless,“ she said. „Poor Levar.“

„He wouldn’t be the first one to suffer for Olman’s sins,“ Halda said grimly. „We can’t let that happen, Alta! After Felga and yes, even Vilam, he’d be the _third_ ape to die because of that baboon!“

Zana frowned. „What do you mean, we can’t let that happen? Without evidence, we can’t do anything!“

Halda leaned in closer. „Then we just have to... _find..._ some evidence,“ she whispered. „Something that even Olman can’t wiggle out of.“

It took Zana a moment to understand what Halda was suggesting. „You can’t be serious,“ she gasped. „That’d be.. that’d be...“

„That’d be _justice!“_ Halda snapped. „Olman needs to be stopped! Now that he started to kill off people who offend him, do you think he’ll _stop_ again, on his own? He’s tasted blood, Alta, he’s a danger to all of Sapan!“

„Then we’ll have to tell Rogan...“ Zana said weakly.

„As if that boy would even _try,“_ Halda scoffed. There was a light in her eyes that Zana hadn’t seen there before - hatred. „He’d tell you that he can’t do anything without evidence, he wouldn’t even order Olman to come to the watch house for questioning! And if he dared, Tugal would kick him out so hard you’d hear his boot meeting Rogan’s butt from here to Letema valley!“

She shook her head. „This needs to end now, Alta, and you and I are the only ones who can do it. We’re the only ones who can save Levar’s life, and serve justice... for poor Felga. I’m sure she’ll rest easier with the Mothers if she’d know that her nemesis finally had to pay for what he’d done to her family.“

 _It’s not justice you want,_ Zana realized as she stared at the little woman before her. _It’s revenge._

„Maybe you’re right, Halda,“ she said quietly. „But this is a serious matter, and I... I have to think about it. And... and about what kind of evidence would suffice even for a court that is in Olman’s pocket.“

She took another step back and forced a smile on her lips. „I’ll let you know what I’ve come up with first thing in the morning. I promise.“

Halda nodded tightly. „I’ll be at the office of our charity.“ She sighed. „My charity. I still think of it as mine and Felga’s charity...“

Zana stared after her as she turned away and hurried down the darkened street. She hadn’t wanted to let that thought take form in her mind, but the light in Halda’s eyes had reminded her of someone.

And it frightened her to the bone.


	22. Chapter 22

„Are you sure you want to go through with this?“

They were hovering at the corner of Hatter’s Alley, a small, crooked gap between crumbling houses, none of which was a hatter’s shop. Zana was grateful for its existence, and the early nightfall of the season, both of which allowed her to put off her insane plan for another few moments.

She turned to look at Alan, but his face was just a shadow among deeper shadows.

„I’m absolutely sure I _don’t_ want to go through with this,“ she said. „So if you have a better idea, now would be an excellent time to share it with me.“

She heard him sigh in the darkness. „If any of the junior officers discovers me, should I knock them out, or let them arrest me?“

„Let them arrest you.“ Zana rubbed her forehead; she felt a headache coming. „Better yet, don’t let them discover you.“

„I’ll do my best,“ Alan said dryly. „But you can’t distract them all, unless you start dancing on their desks...“

„Thank you for that advice,“ Zana murmured. „I’ll keep it in mind as a last resort.“

She could still call this off. Nobody had seen them sneak up to the watch house; they could return to the inn and forget about the evidence that Rogan was boasting about. They could - they _should_ focus on saving Peet from Olman’s grasp instead, or maybe just sneak out of town under cover of the night. This night, even. It would be the sane thing to do.

Zana leaned against a flaking wall for a moment, and closed her eyes. She couldn’t even say what had sparked this idea - maybe her indignance over Rogan, once her embarrassment had faded. The way he had trampled her hard-won evidence into the dust, while he rubbed his two meager clues in her face all the time.

Or Halda’s strange and frightening intensity, the hatred that had gleamed in her eyes when she had suggested they should fabricate evidence against Olman. Or rather, that _Zana_ should fabricate it.

Or maybe it had been a combination of those incidents - but the idea that the evidence against Levar might have been fabricated, too, had lodged in Zana’s mind and refused to go away.

She had to know. But after their latest row, it was unlikely that Rogan would cooperate with her.

„How are you planning to return those items?“ Alan interrupted her thoughts. „I doubt you can pay him that kind of visit twice without making him suspicious.“

Zana sighed and pushed away from the wall. „I’ll just give them back to him. By that time, it’ll be too late either way.“

„Too late for what?“

But she had already stepped out into Main Street.

The night air was clammy, and Zana shivered under her robe. Or maybe it was the knowledge of what she was wearing under that robe - a last-ditch acquisition in Sapan’s only boutique that had cost her almost all of their money. Galen would be livid, especially if he found out that she hadn’t bought it for his sake...

It was the first time she had bought something like this, fur bristling at the knowing smile of the girl behind the counter. In a way, it had been even worse than that painfully awkward talk with Morla. „I want to... to get Faro out of the pub and back into my... uh... life,“ Zana had said, staring into her teacup. „But I was never very good at, you know, giving signals...“

She hoped that the old woman’s crash course would be enough to keep Rogan’s attention off his back door. At least it wouldn’t be an uphill fight - unlike her fiancé, Rogan had openly shown his interest in her.

She couldn’t think about Galen now.

Junior wasn’t to be seen anywhere, which was a relief - Zana didn’t know if she’d have been able to even try to flirt with Rogan if he had been there. But it was just Rogan, sitting alone at a desk, muttering under his breath while his quill scratched over the scroll - writing a report, probably.

He was so focused on his work that he didn’t notice her, and she stood under the door and watched him for a moment. He was good-looking, yes, and confident, very, but he was also smart, and generous - or she’d be sitting in one of his cells now, for trespassing on Vilam’s ground - and charming in a boyish way, and Zana wondered why he hadn’t found a girl in Sapan yet. Surely they had to flock to him like birds to a... to a bird feeder? Maybe he was too picky.

Maybe he was one of those men who only sought temporary entertainment, and that was the reason he had picked her - because she would soon be gone again.

Well. Why not engage in the game, then? No matter if she embarrassed herself or not, she’d be out of town soon enough, and would never have to face him again. Zana straightened, plastered a seductive smile on her face, and took care to let her hips sway as she rolled over to him.

Rogan was so engrossed in his report that he only jerked up when she laid a hand on his shoulder. „Mothers! You’ll give me a heart attack one day, Alta...“ He trailed off as his eyes traveled down her open street robe, where the scandalous thing she had bought peeked through.

“... or maybe even today,“ he murmured. „Cesar, Alta, that thing is...“

_Scandalous._

“... gorgeous.“ He leaned back in his seat and smiled up at her. It was a completely open, delighted smile, without any hint of predatory seduction, and Zana felt guilty to the bone.

It couldn’t be helped. She could only march onward.

„Oh, that?“ she said with faked surprise. „That’s for Faro.“ She let the robe glide off her shoulders and twirled around her axis to show off the half-transparent layers of silk. „Do you think he’ll like it? I’m always so unsure when it comes to men’s tastes. Most of the time, they don’t even notice when a woman has a new hairdo...“ She trailed her fingers through her hair, and smiled expectantly at him.

Rogan gaped at her. Behind him, the door to the watch house silently opened again, and Alan poked his head in. His brows rose at the sight of her, but Zana only saw it from the corner of her eyes; her attention was fixed at Rogan’s face. „I hadn’t planned on showing it to you, but since you noticed it, what do you say?“

The guard gestured helplessly. „It’s, ah, it’s, ah... it’s very nice. Shows off your fur.“ He nodded vigorously. Behind him, Alan tiptoed towards the door of the evidence room. „It’s beautiful,“ Rogan said, though it wasn’t clear if he meant the silk robe or her fur.

Zana latched on to that opening. „Rogan, you aren’t supposed to notice my _fur!“_ She hoped her voice was teasing enough to keep him engaged. She lightly slapped his shoulder for good measure.

Rogan laughed, sounding a bit strained. „Well, I, I can’t _not_ notice it!“ He cleared his throat. „Why _are_ you here, except for torturing me like that?“

„Oh.“ Zana pretended to remember her actual reason for coming to the watch house at that late hour, and casually perched on the edge of his desk. Her dangling leg brushed lightly against Rogan’s thigh.

He didn’t glance at it, but he also didn’t move his leg away.

„I wanted to apologize to you, for getting you into trouble,“ Zana declared, resisting the urge to tug at the robe that had fallen away to expose much of her dangling leg. „You know, breaking into poor Vilam’s office and stealing his drugs that he used to kill innocent humans with.“

Rogan sighed, and Alan eased his lock picks into the door’s lock.

Of course they’d lock the damn door.

Alan looked up and met her eyes for a moment, then jerked his head towards the lock. The message was clear: turning the lock picks would make a sound - a sound that she had to drown out somehow.

„Breaking and entering isn’t my biggest problem, with Vilam cooling in Aldo’s morgue,“ Rogan was saying, but Alan didn’t move his hands. Talking in low voices wouldn’t be enough to mask the sound of a turning lock.

„Are you still suspecting me?“ Zana said, slightly annoyed. „Well, it looks as if he was killed by the same stuff that he used for killing - talk about poetic justice. But I don’t have any _Blaze,_ except for the bottles I took from him, and as you can see for yourself...“

She remembered then that she had poured a bit behind the drawer of Vilam’s desk, to leave a trace that Vilam couldn’t deny. That meant some amount of _Blaze_ was missing from the bottle. Enough to kill a grown ape with?

Alan was still frozen at the door to the evidence room. Zana dug into her handbag, grabbed both bottles with _Blaze_ with one hand _,_ and pulled them out with flourish.

And dropped them.

Amidst the crash of splintering glass, her own shriek, and Rogan’s curse as he scraped back his chair, Zana saw Alan turn the lock, and slip inside. She breathed a little lighter; while they were still not out of the woods, the door would at least protect him from Rogan’s eyes and ears.

Provided she kept Rogan sufficiently occupied. Zana gathered the flighty vanes of her robe, and crouched down beside him, picking half-heartedly at a shard. „I’m so sorry,“ she squealed, „I shouldn’t have tried to hold both at once...“

„Alta, sit down - you’ll get that stuff on your robe, and that would spoil your evening with your husband,“ Rogan huffed. All his former eagerness had evaporated, or, more accurately, been choked by the unique aroma of _Blaze._

„This stuff is really vile,“ Zana wheezed, not having to fake her reaction for once. She rose and hurried to the window to throw it open. Cool air brought the scent of wood fires, and the sounds of hoofbeats and cart wheels - more noise to cover Alan’s activities in the next room. But if Zana wanted him to get out of that room undetected, she had to take care of Rogan’s mood now. The scent of _Blaze_ was doing the exact opposite of what the drug promised to do when ingested.

Zana forced herself to abandon her clean air oasis at the window, and hurried back to where Rogan was still picking up glass shards from the floor. „Oh, leave that,“ she said, and pulled at his hand. „Let Junior clean that up. What’s that constable rank good for, if you even have to wipe the floor yourself?“

She didn’t relent until he dropped the shards again, and let her pull him up to his feet. „Let’s get away from the stink,“ Zana urged him, and chose a desk close to the window - far away from both doors.

„I’m so sorry,“ she repeated, walking backwards toward the new desk, holding both his hand and his bemused gaze, „I wanted to apologize for the mess I made, and made an even bigger one. Let me... let me make it up to you somehow.“ She sat him down into a chair so that his back was to the room, and let go of his hand.

But Rogan didn’t let go of hers.

Instead, he pulled her closer, and looked at her with an expression that Zana hoped was intrigue, and not suspicion. „Make it up to me, huh? That’s a... daring offer, Alta. Better think about it again, because if you’re serious, I’ll be serious, too.“

Zana swallowed. Rogan’s hand was big and hot around hers, holding her with a firm grasp. He’d let her go if she’d ask him; but if she didn’t...

Then she saw the handle of the door to the evidence room move slowly, slowly downward, and made her decision.

With a nervous laugh, she plopped herself in Rogan’s lap, and slung her free arm around his neck. „Well,“ she purred, „you know I’m a married woman, Rogan - so how serious can you really get? I was thinking more of a bit of harmless fun...“

Rogan just hummed, and pulled her closer, and Zana found herself wedged uncomfortably between his arms and some hard part of his uniform, probably the belt buckle.

She had no idea how to proceed.

So, uh, maybe she should ask Rogan, even if that might be a bad idea.

_Just a few more moments..._

„So what did _you_ think we could do?“ she breathed into his ear. Over his shoulder, she could see Alan slip out of the dark room. He froze at the sight of her and Rogan, his eyes widening; then he quickly and silently pulled the door shut and tiptoed to the main entrance.

Meanwhile, Rogan’s hand had wandered up her thigh and was dangerously close to crossing into the Forbidden Zone. Zana fought the urge to wiggle out of his grasp, and let her own hand trail down Rogan’s throat instead. Over his shoulder, she mouthed an urgent _get to it!_ to Alan, who was still standing at the main door, gaping at her as if in trance.

The human flinched and silently opened the door, then closed it with a loud clap.

Rogan muttered a curse under his breath as he let his arms go slack; Zana jumped to her feet, and nervously smoothed her hair down. „A... Nait! What are you doing here, at this time?“

She hurried back to Rogan’s old desk, and slipped into her robe. The heavy material embraced her, shielding her from both the cold air, and Rogan’s hungry eyes. She allowed herself a tiny moment of relief; then she turned around to face Alan, who was staring at the ceiling to avoid looking at his mistress while she was in a, in a compromising attire. Or situation.

„Nait?“

Alan flicked her a sideways glance, and relaxed. „Master Faro is looking for you all over town, ma’am. He’s very worried by now.“ His voice was dry enough to make the titles sound ironic.

Zana drew a deep breath. „Well, I had some... things to discuss with the police. But we... were just about finished, isn’t that right, Constable?“

Rogan slouched back in his chair, his expression as carefully neutral as his voice. „Yes, I think we... touched on every important aspect of this matter.“

Then he winked at her.

Zana stared at him for a moment before she remembered to smile flirtatiously, then she whirled around to grab her handbag, and marched to the entrance. „I’m really sorry for the mess I made, Constable,“ she said over her shoulder. „I’m so clumsy sometimes...“

„I don’t mind your mess,“ Rogan said suggestively. „It’s... endearing.“

Zana found it better not to ask what he meant by that. She only breathed freely when they turned into Hatter’s Alley again.

„I’m relieved that you didn’t have to dance on his desk, after all,“ Alan remarked, as they hurried back to the inn. Zana expected the sound of running feet catching up to them any moment; had Alan locked the door to the evidence room again? She couldn’t remember.

„I’m glad that at least one of us was entertained,“ she huffed, relieved to see the lantern of Morla’s house in the distance. „Let’s hope I didn’t sacrifice my dignity in vain. Did you find something?“

„Yes. Both things, even.“

„Excellent.“ They filed through the gate, and stealthily climbed up the stairs to their rooms. For once, Zana hoped that Galen hadn’t returned yet. She didn’t want to explain her choice of dress to him. Or why she had been out to town in it.

She unlocked the door to their rooms, and nudged Alan inside. „So. Let me see if our hunt was successful tonight.“

Maybe she’d finally have something to rub in _Rogan’s_ face, for a change.

* * *

The few moments until they finally sat down at the table felt like the longest moments of Zana’s life. She had tried three times to light the lamp, her fingers shaking from nerves, or the cold, while Alan put new wood on the fire. When he had noticed how frazzled she was, he had sent her into her bedroom to change into something... warmer, although by all rights, as an ape, she should be warmed enough by her fur.

When she returned, the room was bathed in the golden light from the lamp, and the kettle was softly humming on the oven. Alan looked up from the pot that he was filling with tea leaves, and smiled at her, and Zana felt her irritation at his calmness melt away. They had gotten what they wanted; she could wait another moment.

Ah, scratch that. „Where is it? Let me have a look.“

Alan nodded towards the table. „In the bag. Be c...“

„I’ll be careful, don’t worry.“ She lifted the fabric of the bag, and cautiously felt inside.

The blue thread and the letter of complaint came in small chip boxes. The first box contained... a blue thread. Zana stared at it, feeling inexplicably disappointed. „It doesn’t look like much,“ she murmured. „How in the world did they conclude that it came from one of Levar’s bandages?“

„They probably held the thread up to one, and compared the color,“ Alan said, and put the teapot on the table. „Something that we can’t duplicate - I assume you don’t have a sample racer’s bandage here somewhere?“

„No,“ Zana sighed, and idly plucked at the thread. It was thin and soft, and slightly fuzzy.„Alan?“

„Hm?“ Alan returned with two mugs and sat down.

Zana picked up the thread with thumb and forefinger and held it up for him to see. „Forget about the color for a moment. Does this look like a thread from a racer’s bandage?“

Alan frowned at it. „I have no idea. What do you think it is?“

Zana stared at the fuzzy thing that moved softly with her every breath. „It’s so... delicate,“ she mused. „And I’ve seen those bandages - when Marpo taped Peet’s ankles before the race, and when Galen bandaged up his foot after he had inspected the stitches... and they don’t look as if they’d fray easily...“

She tore her gaze away from the thread and glanced at Alan, who had a very thoughtful look on his face now. „I wonder how a thread could separate from a bandage that was pulled tight around Felga’s neck,“ she said. „Unless it was already loose. But that happens only when the fabric is only loosely woven in the first place.“

Alan slowly rubbed his chin. „That’s a good argument for Levar’s defense lawyer,“ he said. „Assuming you have such a role in your judicial system. But right now, you can’t _positively_ prove that this thread _isn’t_ from a bandage.“

„No,“ Zana admitted. With a frustrated little sigh, she lowered the thread back into its box and closed it. If she wanted to return Rogan’s evidence to him, she better not lose it.

„Let’s have a look at that complaint,“ Alan said encouragingly. „Maybe you’ll find something usable there.“

„Let’s hope so.“ Zana reached for the second box. She had reserved it for last - her hopes had rested on that scroll from the beginning, although the thread was also... odd. But Alan was right, it was nothing she could triumphantly rub in Rogan’s face. It wasn’t as solid as he might want to believe, but it wasn’t solid enough to refute him, either.

It wasn’t solid at all, that was the problem.

With a huff, Zana unfurled the scroll and began to read.

„That’s odd,“ she said after a moment.

„Enlighten me?“

„It’s a short, formal complaint,“ Zana explained. „It accuses Levar of illegal possession of _Blaze,_ and of using it on his own humans - to illegally enhance their performance - as well as on racers of competing kennels, with the intention of damaging or killing the human.“ She let the scroll sink. „What’s odd is how this is written. Felga was a reporter - writing articles was her job. This here is just... the sentences are awkward. Clumsy. No outright mistakes, mind you, but as if the writer wasn’t really used to writing this kind of official text.“

„I bet Felga had enough practice writing these,“ Alan remarked. „Considering her vendetta against the kennels.“

„Exactly.“ Zana lowered her gaze back to the scroll. Something else was odd. „And the script itself is also not quite right,“ she added. „Felga’s handwriting was like her temper - big, and not caring about boundaries, a bit chaotic... the loops and the ligatures and everything here look good; they’re big and curly, and the distances between the lines are wide... the script _is_ sprawling, just like Felga’s.“

„But?“ Alan prompted when she didn’t continue.

Zana squinted at the scroll. „I don’t know. There is no variation - the loops are all pretty much the same size, and the distances are all equal, and...“ She turned the scroll around and brushed her fingertips lightly over the page. „And the writer pressed the quill onto the scroll pretty hard. You can feel the indentations from the nib. Felga... wrote with a light hand. I can’t remember feeling a relief on the backside of any of her scrolls.“

„This wasn’t written by her,“ Alan concluded.

Zana stared at the scroll. „But who could’ve written it? And why?“

Alan poured some tea into her mug, and nudged it towards her. „Well, we know at least one important thing about the author: they knew about Levar’s possession of _Blaze.“_

„Hm.“ Zana fingered her mug, but the tea was still scalding hot. „According to Felga’s notes, she found it on Levar’s property - in the tack room, or the sick room, I don’t remember exactly right now... In any case, not a spot everyone had access to. So I don’t think that whoever wrote this found the bottles independently from her. They must’ve learned about it from Felga.“

„But that’s good!“ Alan smiled. „It shrinks the circle of suspects. Who would she have told about such a thing?“

„We don’t know that she told anyone,“ Zana cautioned him. „The forger could’ve read her notes, just like I did in the archive.“

„I don’t think that’ll make a difference,“ Alan said confidently. „Because in that case, our suspect must’ve had an opportunity to dig through Felga’s handbag. If ape women are anything like the women of my time, her handbag would’ve never been far from her body, or even out of sight. Which again means our mysterious writer must be someone Felga trusted enough to leave her handbag with.“

„And that excludes Vilam,“ Zana said darkly, „not that he’s still a suspect, considering his present state.“

„It also excludes Olman,“ Alan pointed out, „unless he had distracted Felga, and his secretary scoured her bag in the meantime.“

It wasn’t too outlandish a thought - in a way, it would’ve been exactly what she and Alan had just done to Rogan. Zana would’ve loved to believe that Olman had collected material that would shut up his nemesis, although she somehow doubted that Felga had been the type that could be blackmailed. She had been more the type that went after her extortioner with a shotgun.

„This, at least, wasn’t Olman’s work,“ she said reluctantly. „Because Rogan told me that someone also made a bid on Levar’s kennel in case he’d be convicted.“ She took a sip from the still too-hot tea. „And the bid was made in favor of the shelter.“

When she looked up, Alan was watching her with an odd expression. „There are a number of people who volunteer for the shelter,“ he said softly, and she realized that the expression had been pity. „If the writer had told them about the complaint, or simply spread a rumour about it, one of them could’ve felt motivated to seize that opportunity.“

Zana shook her head. „Any rumour would’ve found its way back to Felga. And Felga would’ve known that she hadn’t written that complaint - and who she had told about Levar’s stupid and impulsive action. No, the writer and the bidder are one and the same person.“

„You have someone in mind, haven’t you?“ Alan asked.

„This whole... method of operation looks familiar to me,“ Zana said slowly. „Forcing someone’s hand to deal out ‘justice’ to someone who ‘deserves’ it... and framing someone else as being responsible...“ She sighed and propped her elbows on the table. Her head seemed to be too heavy all of a sudden, and she felt terribly tired.

„This is all well and good, and maybe it’ll even be enough to save Levar from the rope, now that Rogan’s surefire motive is gone, but it doesn’t get me one step nearer to finding out who killed Felga,“ she groaned. „With Vilam dead, I don’t have a suspect anymore! Not that I had one to begin with, if you’re going by _evidence_ against him.“

She downed her tea in one draw, frustration building in her chest. „It seems clear now that he was involved in the drug business, at least - we do have Levar’s statement...“ She wasn’t going to tell Alan about her nightly visit with Vilam, „but as Felga’s murder suspect, he’s not a very credible witness, and the drugs he stole from Vilam’s locker have vanished, too.“

She buried her head in her hands. „I have nothing!“

„Well, at least it’s clear that Levar couldn’t have killed Vilam,“ Alan said after a moment of stunned silence. „Which begs the question if Vilam’s and Felga’s killer isn’t the same person.“

 _Yes, and it’s probably Olman,_ Zana thought morosely, _not that I’d ever be able to force_ his _conviction. But maybe I can at least find out the truth._

„I made a mistake,“ she admitted. „I was so convinced of Vilam’s guilt that I only looked for clues that would prove my assumption.“ She jumped up and hurried into her bedroom to get her notes - a loose-leaf collection of scrolls that she had thrown in one of Alan’s wicker baskets. She dragged it out from under the bed and carried it back to the main room, where she put it on the floor.

She gestured at the heap of scrolls that had been stuffed into the basket. Most days, she had been too tired to sort through the notes, and had only been concerned with not losing any of them, but looking at the chaos, she felt a bit embarrassed. The basket look suspiciously close to one of Felga’s crates in the _Sentinel’s_ archives. „I need to correct that mistake, but it’s so much! And I don’t even know what I’m looking for!“

Alan scraped his chair back a bit, and stared at the mess. „You’re looking for patterns - for things that add up, and for things that _don’t...“_ He picked up a note, frowned at it, and put it on the table with an rueful smile. „I’d help you, but I still can’t read the simian script very well.“

„That’s alright, Alan,“ Zana sighed, and went to get her pen and ink. „It’s the thought that counts.“

She shook out a fresh scroll and pretended to take notes on her new master sheet, but her head felt congested, as if it had been stuffed with notes like one of Felga’s crates. Her hand hovered above the scroll, the ink drying on the nib.

„You know what,“ Alan said after a moment, „why don’t you read your notes to me, and I write down what we find? When we’re done, I can read back to you what I’ve written, and, well, maybe we’ll see the big picture.“

„That’s an excellent idea, Alan,“ Zana said gratefully. „Let me order the scrolls by the person they’re centered on before we start - Vilam, Olman... everyone else...“

When she was done, Alan surveyed the table with raised brows. „That one isn’t really high,“ he said, and gestured at the ‘everyone else’-pile. „I see what you said about confirmation bias... Well.“ He leaned over the table to take Zana’s master scroll, and her pen. „Go ahead, then.“

Zana reached for the nearest scroll and cleared her throat. „Fine. This one here is from Felga’s notes that I found in the archive of the _Sapan Sentinel._ It’s about Olman’s refusal to reforest the areas Tall Timber had cut down. Sapan actually has a communal law that obliges anyone who fells a tree to plant a replacement, to prevent landslides during the winter rains, but the prefect just raised the taxes and hired another company to do it... Felga thought that the company somehow belongs to Olman, but honestly, I couldn’t make sense of her notes...“

„So Olman made a profit twice,“ Alan mused while his pen raced across the scroll. „When he cut the tree, and when he planted a new one. Clever.“

„Illegal,“ Zana said dryly.

„Not anymore, with the prefect’s blessing,“ Alan murmured. „Olman’s well connected.“

„Halda is convinced that he’s the one behind the murders, even if he didn’t commit them himself,“ Zana said, and reached for the next scroll. Halda’s face blinked up in her mind, and she quickly pushed the memory away. As much as she understood the petite Chimp’s wish to see her best friend avenged, she didn’t want to think about their latest conversation now.

„Does she have any evidence for that?“ Alan asked.

„No.“ Zana hesitated. „She... she actually suggested to me that we should... we should place some evidence against him, so that Rogan had a reason to arrest him.“

Alan stared at her. „I see what you meant when you said you recognized a pattern.“

„For the powerless, justice seems to be forever out of reach,“ Zana murmured. „I don’t support or even condone her suggestion, but I can see how she would arrive at this kind of... of vigilante justice. Olman seems to be completely unassailable. Alright, this one here is about Vilam refusing to retire his racers to the shelter... he insisted that the charity had to pay him compensation for every racer, and when they refused, he went and, and killed the humans.“ She let the scroll sink and took a hasty sip from her rapidly cooling tea. „Am I a bad person if I don’t feel sorry that he’s dead?“

„I can’t answer that,“ Alan murmured, not looking up from his notes. „I’m a bit biased about that matter myself...“

They continued in that way, Zana reading the scrolls, Alan noting down whatever he found remarkable, in neat little columns. When Zana rose to put a fresh kettle of water on the stove, she sneaked a glance at his scroll: some words were circled, and lines were connecting some columns to other columns, or circled words, like a complicated spider web.

She consciously held back from asking him what it all meant; he would tell her once they were finished with all her notes.

Zana suppressed a yawn when she sat down again, and reached for the next scroll. „This one... this one is from Felga’s notes of the _Sentinel’s_ archive again... investigating a tip about betting frauds down at the stadium... this is just a list of everyone who’s somehow connected to the racing business - tellers and sellers, basically.“ She motioned to put the scroll aside, but Alan held up a hand.

„You never know which piece of information is relevant until you checked its connections.“ He nodded at the scroll in her hand. „Just... just read it to me once.“

Zana rubbed her eyes with one hand, and squinted at the scroll. „Fine. This is a list of businesses that had been hired for the last big races - it goes back for five years... actually it went back for ten, but I only copied five, I thought that was enough - and the money they paid to the racing commission, for renting the stalls, for example, or the money they _received_ from the commission for services they provided, for example, for the humans that the charity rented out for catering...“

Alan frowned. „The charity rented humans to the stadium? Felga’s charity?“

Zana shrugged. „I know it sounds strange, considering Felga’s aversion to the whole racing business, but maybe they needed the money? Felga had told me that they didn’t get much in terms of donations, which is why they started all those small businesses, like the tea house, and the production of the vases.“

„The way you described Felga to me, she wasn’t the kind of pragmatist who’d ignore where the money was coming from,“ Alan commented, „but that’s not what I meant. Tovar had raved about the races to me, repeatedly, and he’d stressed how generous Olman’s patronage for the races is. So generous, in fact, that Olman provides his own humans for the catering.“

Zana stared at him, then stared down at the notes, where the charity’s services were listed for every year, going back five years without a gap. The charity had made quite a bit of money with that deal.

At least it said so in Felga’s notes.

„Zana?“

„When Galen and I were at that pre-racing reception, they had humans there, too,“ Zana said slowly. „Someone told me that they were Olman’s own humans, I don’t remember anymore who told me... but that was just a small reception. The race is a huge event, maybe Olman didn’t have enough humans, and had to stock up?“

Alan chewed on the inside of his lip as he considered this. Then he shook his head. „Tovar is a bit of a racing maniac. He claims to know every racer who’s ever run since he started going to the racetrack as a little boy, and from the stories he told me, I believe him. He went on and on about Olman and his good deeds for the racing culture here in Sapan - and he was very dismissive of the whole retirement idea.“ He leaned back in his seat and threw his pen on the table.

„Tovar would’ve recognized any former racer who’d have carried a tray with snacks, and he’d have complained about it to me all afternoon, believe me. According to Tovar, a human’s life should consist of nothing but running races. He’d have disapproved so much of this arrangement, it wouldn’t have escaped his notice.“

Zana stared at the scroll. „So if the charity never hired out their humans, where do these numbers come from? And why would _Felga_ have made notes about this...“ She looked up to Alan, and saw the same realization in his eyes. „Halda.“

_Again._

„She’s the logical candidate,“ Alan agreed. „She is the co-chairwoman of the organization.“

„If she didn’t hire out the humans herself, she had to have known who did, at least,“ Zana nodded, clinging to the hope that Halda hadn’t sneaked the humans out behind Felga’s back, like she had done with that complaint. „Or _not_ hired them out, but falsified the books...“ her voice trailed off.

„What is it? Zana?“

„Halda has the books,“ Zana murmured. „Felga told me that bookkeeping was a pain in the behind that she left in Halda’s capable hands...“

„If we assume that no charity human was ever present at the racetracks for catering,“ Alan said, „then the question is what she really received that money for.“

Zana remembered the light in Halda’s eyes when she had talked about justice. That glee.

„No,“ she said at last. „The question is why Halda would do business with Olman at all.“

_This needs to end now, Alta. And you and I are the only ones who can do it._

„And what happened when Felga found out about it.“


	23. Chapter 23

„Wake up!“

Someone shook Virdon’s shoulder, hard, a short jerk that catapulted him out of a confused dream that he couldn’t remember anymore as soon as he opened his eyes. It was still dark; the ape above him was only a blurred shadow against the purple light of very early morning.

But he recognized the voice: Galen, who was now stepping back from his cot, a clear prompt for Virdon to get up.

He slowly sat up and raked a hand through his hair, trying to smooth it down. „What’s wrong?“

„Today is the day of the race.“

„I know.“ His voice was rough from sleep, and he longed for something to drink.

Galen’s shadow shifted nervously. „We need to go down to the stadium.“

Virdon swung his legs out of bed and absently rubbed his hip. „Why so early? Sun isn’t even up yet...“

„Because we need to get Peet.“

Sleepiness was sliding down Virdon's neck and back together with the warmth that he had stored up under his blanket, and as his head slowly cleared, it dawned on him that Galen hadn’t been able to make true to his word. „You’re going to steal Pete from the tracks.“

„I couldn’t even get near Olman anymore.“ Galen’s voice was gruff, his face concealed by the darkness in Virdon’s room. „I had no chance to renegotiate, but... but of course I agree with Zana that Peet is not up for sale.“

„Especially since you don’t own him in the first place,“ Virdon pointed out.

Galen laughed, though it didn’t sound amused. „I know you don’t like to hear it, Alan, but for all intents and purposes, Zana and I _do_ own both of you. It’s just how the world works. No matter who you were in your own time, here you can’t go anywhere by yourself. In no time, you’d be snatched off the streets by a guard, if you’re lucky, or by a criminal, if you’re unlucky, and nobody would care what happened to you afterwards.

„But enough of that. We don’t want Peet to change hands, and that means we need to get him out of the stadium before the races begin. I’m afraid that once they are underway, Olman will have his men on every exit. He’s the president of the racing commission, the biggest donor... he _is_ the Race.“

He moved towards the door. „I’m down in the guest room. Don’t take too long.“ He closed the door after him without a sound, probably so that he wouldn’t wake Zana.

Virdon stared at the dark outline of the door, his fingers digging into the bedframe. Galen had laid out the rules of his world without triumph or condescension, but that didn’t make them in any way more palatable. The chimp had simply cited the facts: humans were no longer the master race. Apes were. And humans could be grateful that the new masters had granted them a place in the new order of things, even if it was on a lower rung of the hierarchy. Much lower.

 _I’m going to find a way home, or die trying. And_ when _I find that way home, I’ll make sure that none of this will ever happen._

But first, he had to get Pete out of that trap that disguised itself as a sports event. There was just no way in hell he’d go home and leave his friend behind on this cursed world.

His bladder had woken up in the meantime, too, reminding him that it had been some time since they had last visited the outhouse, and with a sigh, Virdon grabbed the bedpost and dragged himself up to his feet. He had no idea what Galen could need him for - it wasn’t as if he could outrun an ape, and his whole appearance would only draw attention to the fact that „Faro“ was somewhere in the vicinity...

Maybe he was meant to be the distraction. Or the bait.

In any event, it would be an interesting day.

* * *

When Zana opened her eyes, the sky was a clear, translucent blue, and a crisp wind was billowing the curtains of her window. It would be a sunny, yet cool day. A faint murmur was filtering up to her - people passing by the inn on their way to the stadium.

Today was the day of the big race - the Three Valleys Racing Competition. Zana could feel the visitors’ excitement vibrating in her bones, like a tuning fork answering a high note from afar.

Or maybe it was dread that was trembling inside her, dread for Peet’s fate. Galen still hadn’t reported back to her on his promise to cancel the deal with Olman. In fact, she hadn’t seen him at all since his confession. Zana turned her head to his side of the bed, but she already knew he wasn’t there. His half of the bed was cold and smooth, the blanket untouched - she doubted that he had even come home. Perhaps he was sleeping behind the kennels at the racetrack now, like that drunkard Tovar.

With an angry huff, Zana sat up and swung her feet to the floor. She couldn’t waste her time with moping over Galen. If he wasn’t able to save Peet, she would have to find a way herself; she was even willing to admit that she wasn’t married to „Faro“ at all. If they just ran away with Peet, Olman would send the police after them anyway, it wasn’t as if she had anything to lose anymore...

She froze when her gaze fell on the knife sitting on her nightstand. Alan had given it to her before he had retired for the night. „Pete would only give it up after I promised him that no one but you would touch it,“ he had said, and had handed it to her so reverently as if it was made of glass.

She didn’t _need_ a knife. It made her uneasy just to look at it. It reminded her of the last time she had held one in her hand, Galen’s boot knife, long and sleek and heavy... heavy and warm, and slick with blood...

Zana blinked. Peet’s knife still sat on her nightstand, tame and silent, tucked into a leather sheath that Alan had made for him. She slowly reached for it and, after a moment’s hesitation, unsheathed it.

The blade was a dull silver, with a matte surface except for highly polished parts that formed symbols... maybe a human script:

A N S A

Alan had repeatedly impressed on her that she was to wear that knife on her body at all times, until they were out of the valley and she could give it back to Peet; but that was easier said than done. The blade was wider than Galen’s boot knife, and the hilt thicker, and the whole thing, sheath and all, put uncomfortable pressure on her calf when she wedged it into her boot. She couldn’t strap it to her belt like Peet did, either - apes didn’t wear shirts and pants, they wore robes... granted, the craftsmen and their families didn’t, but Zana wasn’t ready to change her wardrobe just to accommodate her newly acquired weaponry.

In the end, she strapped it on her left arm and let the sleeve fall over it. It wasn’t visible, but its weight was dragging at her arm, reminding her with every move that she was now armed. It made her feel as if she wasn’t just going to visit Halda to make sure that last night’s conclusion was nothing but a mad leap of speculation, born from lack of sleep and lack of real evidence.

It made her feel as if she was going into that tunnel again, into the darkness.

She tried to put the knife out of her mind as she pushed upstream against the current of visitors headed for the stadium. Children were racing ahead of their parents, squealing with excitement, holding streamers in their favorite kennels’ colors high above their heads, but the crowd thinned out the closer she came to the shelter, and the noise ebbed away with it. Out here, the only sounds were the breeze in the trees, and the lonely chirp of a bird here and there.

It was such a peaceful morning.

The shelter was deserted - the humans were already in the workhouses, and the volunteers were either overseeing them there, or in the kitchen, where the humans that had kitchen duty were now busy cleaning up the canteen. As she walked down the short corridor, her boots loud on the wooden floorboards, Zana realized that she had hoped that the office would be deserted, too - she had no idea what she wanted to talk about with Halda, if she was there. She couldn’t very well accuse her of forging the complaint against Levar, could she?

_If in doubt, pretend to frame Olman with her - maybe she’ll let something slip..._

She held her breath at that thought; she was already treating Halda as if she had something to do with Felga’s death. _I promised myself that I wouldn’t jump to conclusions anymore, like I did with poor... with Vilam. Right now, I just want to clear up this strange discrepancy in the charity’s books, and nothing more._

She... _hadn’t_ made any promises to Rogan to stay away from crime scenes. Anyway, Halda’s office didn’t count as a crime scene, so she wouldn’t even break her non-existing promise to him.

_If this has nothing to do with Felga’s death, and Levar is going to hang... then I’ll have at least a clean conscience. I’ll have done everything I can to get to the truth of this tragedy._

Her conscience didn’t feel clean. She felt like a failure.

Zana knocked at the door, then pushed it open when no answer came. „Halda? It’s me, Alta.“ She stuck her head in and realized with a start that nobody was in there.

There was her opportunity. Her heart was beating so hard that it hurt. She almost wished Halda had been there, and she’d have been forced to retreat with a lame excuse on her lips. She’d have had a clean conscience...

_Oh, tell that to someone else!_

She didn’t have the faintest idea where to begin. Halda’s desk was neat and orderly - an assortment of fresh pens in one box, alongside a pounce pot and an inkwell. Empty scrolls were stashed in the topmost drawer, but what Zana was looking for wasn’t a scroll, but a book - one of those rare collections of flattened scrolls that were sewn together into a brick-like pile, and encased into a wood or leather shell. Only bookkeepers used them, as their name said, and apparently, humans of old had preferred them over scrolls, too - maybe that was the reason they had fallen out of fashion.

Zana closed the top drawer and reached for the one below it.

„What are you doing there?“

Zana silently congratulated herself for not flinching; but her heart stopped in her chest for a moment. With a fluid motion, she picked up a framed photograph. „Oh... oh... Halda!“ The stutter wasn’t faked. „I’m, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have poked around, but-“ She turned the picture around to show it to Halda, who had closed the door with a hard click. „They are so lovely, I just couldn’t resist... I just wanted to take a closer look...“

Halda rounded her desk and snatched the picture from her hand, and Zana prudently retreated from the desk, and behind the visitor’s chair. „I’m so sorry, I’m not... entirely rational when it comes to children...“

That sounded way more dangerously insane than she had intended. “... since I lost my baby.“

Whatever Halda had been about to say, that shut her up. She gaped at Zana, and Zana felt her fur bristle all over her body with embarrassment. _Why did I blurt that out? It’s not her business, it’s nobody’s business..._

„Oh Alta, I’m so sorry,“ Halda said softly. „I had no idea.“

Zana nodded and, to her horror, felt fresh tears prick her eyes. „And I’ll never have another baby again,“ she added compulsively, her voice thick with tears. It felt strange, _wrong,_ to tell an outsider. But a tiny, completely unmoved part of her pointed out that it was also the best way to disarm and distract Halda from what she had been doing at her desk.

The petite Chimp sunk into her chair, still at a loss for words, but with an answering shine to her eyes. Of course, a mother would understand this pain...

And then that dry, slyly amused voice had another idea. If she wanted a second chance at searching Halda's desk, she'd need a reason to return to the shelter. Maybe in a few hours, while Halda was busy with something else.

Zana dabbed the moisture from her eyes and cleared her throat. „It sounds so insane now, but I came here because today is the day of the big race...“

„I know,“ Halda said, her voice completely devoid of emotion all of a sudden. „You have one of your humans running.“

„That... that was my husband’s idea,“ Zana murmured. „But I was thinking... well... _everyone_ is going to see the races, and your children must feel left out...“

„They know that the races are a despicable practice, abusive and exploitative of humans,“ Halda said sternly. „Felga and I were completely in accordance that we wouldn’t desensitize them like that.“

„Oh, oh, no, that’s not what I meant!“ Zana said hastily. „I wanted to ask you if I could take them to the tea house, and to the market - they’re selling candied fruit and, and lemonade...“

„That’s not necessary,“ Halda said dismissively. „Candy is bad for their teeth.“ She carefully set down the framed picture and reached for a pen and the inkwell.

Zana was dismissed. Halda had bought her story, and Zana had „dodged a bullet,“ as Peet would say.

But somehow, that mood had taken hold of her... that longing for something that she had never known, and never would: taking her children out for a day of candies and lemonade, sitting on a wall and dangling her legs while eating ice cream with them.

Oh yes, she would also buy them ice cream, dental health be damned. Suddenly, Zana was fiercely determined to have that day with Halda’s children.

_Just for a little bit - an atseht or two… besides, it’ll give me time to think of a plan for saving Peet…_

„Oh, alright,“ she said in a tiny voice, and turned halfway towards the door. „I just wanted to know what it’d be like to have children... just for one day...“

She had already pushed down the handle, when a deep sigh behind her stopped her movement.

„No candy,“ Halda’s voice sounded behind her. „And no lemonade. Tea and biscuits, Alta. Promise me.“

Zana turned towards her, unable to suppress the broad smile tugging at her face. „I promise, Halda. I’ll bring them back in a few hours.“ And pray to the Mothers that Halda would be busy in one of the workhouses then...

Halda unfolded a pair of glasses, and didn’t look up. „You can drop them off here,“ she muttered, her mind already focused on the scroll before her. „They are here somewhere right now, too, probably down at the kennels.“

„Thank you, Halda - this means so much to me.“

Zana quietly let herself out and went to find Iska and her little brother.

Ice cream first, then candies from the market. Maybe a hair bow for Iska.

It would be a terrific afternoon.


	24. Chapter 24

„And I can have another _cake.“_

Zana kept her face carefully neutral as she slipped another slice of cream cake on Evon’s plate. Halda’s little boy was fiercely determined to get as much cake out of this day as possible, and Zana found it hard to remember that she was supposed to be the adult of their little troupe.

„This is the last one, Evon,“ she said, while he dug into his cake, „or you’ll get sick. And then I’ll get in trouble with your mother.“

He didn’t deign to answer that, but his sister put down her fork and shot Zana a worried look. „Are you sure that she won’t be angry? She never allows us to eat sweets...“

Zana regarded Evon’s cream-smeared face for a moment. „Don’t worry, Iska - today is a special day, and I’ll take responsibility for everything. What do you say if we go down to the market once your brother is finished with his cake, and see if we find something nice for you to take home? A bow tie, or a scarf...“ She had no idea how long Halda’s workday was at the shelter, but it was probably safe to say that they’d have to fill up some _atsehts_ in town before going back to Halda’s office would make sense.

Iska made a face. „I don’t want a scarf. Mother has hundreds of them, I can take one of hers if I need one. She has them in every color.“

„Well, fortunately they have more on offer than just scarves,“ Zana said, determined not to let the girl spoil her mood. Iska seemed to be in a constant state of worry; it was as if she believed that her mother was monitoring her from afar, like a disapproving shadow on her shoulder.

Zana appreciated that Halda was struggling to raise her children responsibly; she didn’t have any living relatives, which was unusual for a Chimpanzee, and had to rely on her wits, endurance, and frugality to get her family over each moon without her children going hungry. As far as Zana could see, Iska and Evon were well-fed, reasonably well-clothed, and well-behaved, if a bit on the serious side in Iska’s case. Halda wasn’t a bad mother, just a strict one. Perhaps you had to be, in her situation.

But her heart ached for that serious little girl sitting across from her, unable to enjoy a slice of cream cake, for fear what her mother would say if she learned about it.

„Well, we don’t have to fill our day with sweets,“ she said brightly, „we can go down to the stadium...“

Iska’s eyes grew huge with alarm, and Zana hastily continued, “... to pet the horses-“

„I want to ride on a pony!“ Evon exclaimed.

“... and they’re selling balloons there, too,“ Zana added, closely watching Iska’s face. „Balloons that fly up into the sky if you don’t hold on tight to them, and there’s nice music playing...“

„I don’t know...“ Iska murmured, staring at her plate, but Zana heard the longing in her voice. „Mother doesn’t like the races...“

„We’re not going inside,“ Zana reassured her. „We’re not buying any tickets, and we’re not watching any races.“

Iska looked torn. „I don’t know...“

„I’m going!“ Evon declared. „Can I ride on a pony? And I want _ten_ balloons, and a waffle, and an apple with the red stuff around it, the red stuff that breaks when you bite into it and then it _crunches...“_

„Let’s go down there first, and look what they have,“ Zana laughed, valiantly forcing back the tears in her eyes. _I could’ve had this..._

She swallowed heavily, and waved for the human to come to her table so that she could pay. It was no use dwelling on what could have been. It was a sure recipe to make herself sad, and that would be unfair to Halda’s children. Iska didn’t look as if she was enjoying herself anyway.

When they stepped out of the tea house, the sun had already climbed up high above the rooftops, and the air was so warm that Zana took off her woolen scarf and tied it around her waist. The streets were packed with people, and she took both Iska’s and Evon’s hands in hers, so that she wouldn’t lose them in the crowd. Iska trotted at her side without a fuss, but Evon jerked her arm in all directions as he darted this way and that, whenever something exciting caught his eye.

They went to the market, where Evon got his balloon, and a toy horse, and Iska a hair bow and a little wooden box to put it in, and then Zana bought them ice cream, and they went down to the round tent at the big stadium, where tired looking humans led equally tired looking ponies round and round the sanded arena, while little ape children clung to the ponies’ backs with a look of utter bliss on their faces. Zana found it strange that pony riding was such an attraction in this rural area, then remembered that almost nobody had a farm around here; the woodworkers’ children had probably no more opportunity to ride on horseback than she’d had, back in the City.

„Don’t you want to ride, too?“ she asked Iska, who was wiping Evon’s ice cream-smeared mouth with what looked like one of Halda’s old scarves.

Iska shrugged and watched as a human swept Evon up and sat him on the pony’s back. „No, I don’t care for horses.“

 _You’ve made a habit of not caring for much,_ Zana thought. _That’s one way to avoid being disappointed..._

„Well, that’s alright then,“ she said aloud. „One can’t care for everything.“

„I care for Evon,“ Iska said after a pause.

Zana smiled. „Oh yes, I can see that. You wiped his sticky little face as if you were a mother.“

Iska straightened, for the first time looking anything other than sullen. „I can do _a lot_ of things, just like any grown up!“

„I’m sure you can,“ Zana said, keeping an eye on Evon, who was wiggling his behind on the pony in an attempt to make it go faster. The human had already grabbed him twice to keep him from sliding off. „You’re a very mature young lady.“

Iska nodded vigorously. „I can make breakfast, and lunch, and dinner. And I can make our beds. And, and...“ She faltered for a moment, searching her memory for more things to boast about. „I can bring Evon to bed, and tell him a good night story!“

„Do you tell him the same story that your mother tells him, or do you have your own stories?“ Zana wanted to know. If taking care of her baby brother was the only thing in her life the poor girl was proud of, Zana was determined to let her milk every ounce of appreciation from her that she could get.

„Mother doesn’t tell us stories,“ Iska said with a shrug. „I make up my own. I had to come up with _so many_ stories that one night, because he just wouldn’t sleep! I had to tell him _ten different stories,_ until the sun came up, and then we both slept, and I was late for school.“

„Didn’t your mother come in and send you to bed, when it got too late for stories?“ Zana wondered. From what she had seen, Halda ran a tight ship - this endless story session couldn’t have escaped her notice.

„No, she wasn’t there.“

Zana blinked. „What do you mean? She was gone all night?“

Iska nodded, the familiar look of worry back on her face.

„Does that happen often?“ Zana asked, careful not to alarm the girl further. „Then Evon is lucky to have such a competent sister, who keeps him entertained in the meantime.“

„No, it only happened twice,“ Iska said hastily. „Mother is always home before dark.“

The ponies stopped, and Evon begged for another round. Zana absently paid for two more rounds, not really paying attention to Evon’s delighted cries. She leaned heavily against the railing, watching Evon on his pony, waiting for the flutter in her stomach to die down. Beside her, Iska had climbed onto the railing and was dangling her legs, watching the ponies, too.

„Are you sure you don’t want to ride for one round?“ Zana asked, but Iska just shook her head.

„When was that?“ Zana wanted to know. „When your mother only came home in the morning,“ she explained at Iska’s frown.

„The night before last night,“ Iska said, then yelled at the passing Evon to stop wiggling. „And the other time was when the moon was full. I remember, because I told Evon lots of stories about the moon, and how one time, the dumb Gorilla tried to eat the moon...“

Her voice faded into the background noise of horses, humans, and children. Zana held on to the railing, her eyes fixed on Evon circling the far side of the tent.

The night before last night was the night when Peet had been attacked. The same night in which Vilam had been killed.

And the night of the full moon...

... In that night, Felga had been strangled.

But maybe not with a racer’s bandage.

* * *

If the crowd was already packed outside the gates of the stadium - buying sweets, riding the carousels, and gaping at the dazzling displays of garishly colored and totally useless souvenirs of the racing fair - it was squeezing into a solid, suffocating block of fur and fangs at the entrance to the stadium, shoving and pressing from all sides against Virdon in its rush to get in.

„Why are you paying for tickets?“ he asked Galen, whose back was pressing against his ribcage. „We could’ve taken the back entrance that’s for the owners...“

„I don’t want to draw attention,“ Galen answered without turning his head - not that he could’ve done so anyway; the apes were converging on the gates like a herd of panicked cattle. Virdon hoped that nobody would stumble and get trampled - if a panic broke out, things could get out of control in a heartbeat.

„Then you shouldn’t have brought me along,“ he couldn’t resist pointing out to Galen. It was true - despite their single-mindedness, the apes threw glances his way that ranged from curious to irritated. Humans didn’t pay to visit the races; they ran them, or they served snacks to the apes.

Galen didn’t answer, either because he didn’t know what to say, or because he was lacking breath to say anything, and Virdon fell silent too, and concentrated on getting through the gates alive.

The crowd thinned out immediately beyond the gates, and Virdon eagerly sucked in a lungful of fresh air, blessedly free from the smell of ape fur and cheap perfume. „Alright, we’re inside. What’s our next step?“

„We find Peet, and leave inconspicuously through a side entrance,“ Galen muttered. He avoided to meet Virdon’s gaze; his eyes were scanning the milling apes, looking for Olman’s security, maybe.

Virdon stared at him. „That’s... a pretty daring plan.“ It wasn’t a plan at all; Galen was panicking, probably remembering Zana’s threat to leave him, if he couldn’t get his hands on Burke.

„I brought you because you know your way around here,“ Galen said gruffly. „Let’s go.“

Virdon hesitated; their chances of kidnapping Pete - no, _Liquid Fire -_ in broad daylight, on the day of the biggest racing event in the prefecture, were close to nonexistent. On the other hand, he couldn’t think of a better alternative right now, and arguing with Galen was pointless at any time.

He sighed and nodded towards the kennel section. „I hope they’re still there.“

But the area was deserted; the cabins were empty, their doors wide open. A groom pointed them to the warming-up area, and Virdon’s hope plummeted. If the racers had already been taken out to the tracks, there would be no opportunity to sneak away with Burke.

„What is your plan B, if this doesn’t work?“ he asked, as they limped towards the round paddock, where humans were stretching and jogging up and down - well, he was limping, but this time, Galen was adjusting his speed to his, maybe so he could win another few moments to think up a plan B.

„Break into Olman’s estate, and get Peet out,“ Galen said tersely, still not looking at him.

„Olman will have security,“ Virdon warned. „Guarding the perimeter, and patrolling the grounds.“

„Well, you were a soldier,“ Galen snapped, „I trust that you’ll know how to deal with them, for the sake of your friend.“

Virdon dug his teeth into the flesh on the inside of his lip to prevent himself from telling the ape exactly what was on his mind, and focused on their current predicament instead.

The warming-up arena was a wide, sanded place that was surrounded by a wooden railing - it looked exactly like a round pen, which Virdon found more irritating than usual right now. The humans were focused on their limbering exercises, never lifting their gazes to glance at the world outside the fence. He could see Burke in his white shorts, white because he didn’t belong to any established kennel, but Burke didn’t lift his gaze, either, so Virdon couldn’t even alert him to their presence...

„Sorry, sir, you can’t pass.“ A burly chimpanzee in a dark green uniform had stepped into Galen’s way. Virdon stopped, too, careful not to stand too close to either ape.

Galen gestured towards the round pen. „I own one of the racers-“

The other chimp folded his arms before his chest. „That ban extends to owners and trainers - no exemptions.“

„That is _unheard_ of,“ Galen blustered. „You can’t deny me access to my _property!“_

 _He’s just using an irrefutable argument, by ape standards,_ Virdon reminded himself. _He has to use what works._

„The president of the racing commission made that decree himself,“ the security guard growled. „You can make your argument with him, and with the other members of the commission.“ He pointed towards the clubhouse.

„I don’t understand the reason for this measure,“ Galen protested. „In all the previous races, I had always access to my racer.“

Virdon thought that he understood the reason for Olman’s sudden new policy all too well.

„It’s because of the _Blaze_ problem,“ the chimp muttered, looking a bit chagrined now. „The president doesn’t want any last-moment attempts to, ah, improve a racer’s chances.“

„That’s ridiculous,“ Galen huffed. „I don’t need to dope my human, he runs like the wind.“

The chimp shrugged. „You need to take it up with the president then. I have my orders.“

About fifty yards behind him, Burke had come to a halt and was staring at them. Virdon met his gaze, and slightly shook his head.

Burke’s face showed no emotion; he just resumed his stretching routine.

Galen turned away from the security guard, and waved at Virdon to follow him. They slowly made their way back to the entrance.

„I have no idea what to do now,“ Galen said suddenly.

Virdon didn’t answer right away. That the chimp admitted defeat at all was a surprise; but if he expected Virdon to pull a solution out of the proverbial hat, he was mistaken. Olman was a powerful ape - it wasn’t just security on his property that they would have to take into account.

But there was also no question that he would leave his friend in that ape’s hands, being used as a... as a stud. Nobody deserved such a degrading treatment, and Pete least of all.

They’d probably have to go with Galen’s plan B, as crazy and dangerous as it was.

„Well, you better prepare the cart, and find Zana,“ Virdon said finally. He drew a deep breath.

„And get me enough ammunition for Betsy.“


	25. Chapter 25

„Where are we going?“ Evon wanted to know as they left the market. He was still grabbing the line of his balloon in a tightly clenched fist, although the pig bladder was already sagging behind him; these things never held the floating gas for long, although Zana supposed that was a good thing - it was prone to ignite at the slightest provocation.

„I need to talk to someone, sweetie,“ she said absently, as they turned into a side alley. The noise of the market died down almost immediately.

„But I’m tired, and my feet are achy,“ Evon complained.

„It’s not far, just down this road,“ Zana soothed him. „And then you can sit down, and play with the toy horse I bought you.“

Evon wasn’t mollified, but Zana paid him no attention anymore. She had to find Halda’s corrupted book, and she didn’t need the woman to barge in again while she was digging through her desk.

Which meant she needed a distraction.

For a moment, Rogan’s face popped up in her mind’s eye, enraged and horrified at her illegal trespassing on Vilam’s office. She had no right to dig through _any_ ape’s desk, and this time, she couldn’t claim ignorance anymore. But her chances of convincing Rogan to search the charity were as good as nonexistent, and the court had already spoken its verdict over Levar. The _Sapan Sentinel_ had reported about it in today’s issue.

If she didn’t do this herself, nobody would. This time, she wouldn’t take the evidence with her - but once she knew without a doubt that that book really existed, she wouldn’t rest until Rogan turned up at the shelter with a search warrant. She’d just have to wait until he had cooled down again, after she’d given back Halda’s forged complaint, and the blue thread… that wasn’t from a bandage...

Fortunately, Sapan only had two lodging houses, and the trader Zana had in mind didn’t lodge with Morla, so there was only one logical destination left. Zana hoped that the Chimp hadn’t left in the meantime, after he had been so frustrated by his last confrontation with Halda.

She left the children in the guest room, confident that Iska would take care of her younger brother as usual, and ordered a glass of iced lemonade for each of them. Then she went to the reception.

„I’m looking for a trader,“ she told the old woman behind the counter. „Unfortunately I don’t know his name, but his clothes are very striking... lots of fur...“

„Trader Mezzal has just left,“ the old woman croaked. „Maybe you can catch him at the stables, he just went out the door...“

Zana didn’t hear the rest of her words, as she sprinted out of the back door.

The trader was just paying the stable boy for hitching up his horses. „Trader Mezzal?“ Zana gasped.

He barely turned his head. „I’m done with trading in this town. Try again next year.“

Zana stepped closer. „It’ll only take a moment of your time, sir. You may not remember me, but I couldn’t help but witness your, ah, discussion with Chairwoman Halda - from the human shelter,“ she added, when he just stared blankly at her.

At the mention of Halda’s name, the trader huffed and shook his head. „You’re right, I don’t remember you, but I sure remember her! Blazes, what a shrew!“

„She’s very protective of the humans,“ Zana said, „but of course she has to take the markets into account...“ She had no idea what she was talking about. „If she doesn’t sell the... the art objects, the humans will go hungry. And I’m sure _you_ could not only get even, but make a substantial profit from them. After all, you know a lot more about business than Halda.“ It was never wrong to cater to a man’s vanity.

„Well, that’s exactly the problem!“ Mezzal brushed past her, and climbed onto the driver’s seat. „She’s got no idea how the market works, so you can’t talk sense into her! She just digs her heels in, common sense be damned!“

Zana grabbed the halter of the nearest horse. „I don’t know if you’re aware that the shelter had just lost its other chairwoman to a horrible crime when you had that business talk with Halda. She was very shaken by the incident. I know that I wouldn’t have had the composure to even turn up for work, much less talk about a deal with anyone that day!“ She stepped closer, her hand brushing the length of the horse’s back, holding Mezzal’s gaze. This man couldn’t just roll out of town now! She needed him!

„But today is another day,“ she continued, still locking eyes with Mezzal. „And with all of Sapan at the races, you’ll be uninterrupted for hours - and she won’t have a pretense to leave the table.”

The other thing that one should always cater to was a man’s pride. „Don’t tell me you’ll let such an opportunity slip through your fingers, Mezzal. I’m not seeing that kind of meekness in you.“

Mezzal stared her down, his nose twitching nervously. „Alright,“ he grumbled at last. „One more try, while I’m headed for the road anyway.“

Zana beamed at him. „Would you be so kind to offer us a ride? I was sitting Halda’s children, and her little boy has sore feet from wandering around the fair...“

Mezzal was more soft-hearted than he had let on, because he didn’t just allow them to sit at the back of the wagon, but called Evon to the front to ride shotgun, and even hold the lines, while Zana and Iska settled down at the tail end of the wagon.

Zana let her legs dangle from the platform, secretly relieved that she wouldn’t have to walk out to the shelter herself; it wasn’t only Evon’s feet that were pretty sore by now. Beside her, Iska was dangling her legs, too, taking her hair bow out of its wooden box and turning it in her fingers, so that the sunlight reflected from the silvery threads that were woven into it.

„Do you like it?“ Zana asked.

Iska nodded, then put it back into the box. „It was a nice day,“ she murmured without looking up. „A very nice day. Thank you so much.“

„I enjoyed it as much as you did,“ Zana said, feeling miserable. This day would stand out in the children’s memory for a long time, just as similar events from her own childhood had stayed with her over all these years.

She only hoped that the good part of the day would stay with them - the ponies, and the balloons, and the sweets.

Not the part that would come after.

* * *

Burke tried to focus on his breath - make it regular, not too deep, not too fast - while the apes herded him and the other racers towards the start line, where a row of boxes were waiting for them. One of the damn monkeys must’ve found an old picture book about horse racing, because Burke could see no fucking reason why anyone would lock a human into a box for a race. The proper way was to use starting blocks, so you could push off, and get a decent acceleration...

He realized that his breath had accelerated instead, and his heart was racing as if he had already run for miles. It was the noise all around him, and the fact that the stands were _packed_ with howling, screeching apes, that was making his hair stand on end. It was like being led into the arena to meet the lions.

„Hail Cesar,“ Burke muttered under his breath, „we who’ll die in here greet you.“

Wasn’t that the name of their mythical god-king, too? Must’ve been some human’s pet, no ape would give their offspring a human name... Galen’s dad would have a stroke if he knew that his son was wearing the name of a human physician. Burke wished he had thought of that while they had been there. But then he had missed the old chimp both times...

The box was yawning at him, waiting to swallow him whole. Rough hands shoved against his back; he hadn’t realized that he had slowed down, but he was the last to enter. All the other humans had obediently stepped inside their designated box, and the barrage of doors banging shut behind them, and the bars snapping in place hit Burke like physical blows.

The ape pushed him into the darkness and shut the door behind him, and for a second, Burke couldn’t see anything, hear anything except for his own ragged breathing.

_Stop that, goddammit! You’re pushing yourself into another panic attack!_

He leaned against the door and tried to hold his breath, to give his blood the opportunity to unload enough oxygen to counteract the effects of his hyperventilating. He felt dizzy, numb, and he was already feeling the tell-tale prickle in his fingertips and upper lip.

_Shit._

The voice of the announcer was booming outside, his words unintelligible, but judging by the roar from the crowd that answered him, the starting gun would be fired any moment now. He’d be out of this damn box, and he’d be allowed to run off all this tension that was building up in him, building and building...

... and he’d run straight into the next cage. Olman’s cage, one whose door would never open again.

Burke squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t think of this right now. Al would... he’d find a way to get him out. Burke didn’t trust Galen to find his way out of a paper bag, let alone out of this clusterfuck the ape had gotten him into, but the colonel wouldn’t leave him behind. He had seen it in Virdon’s eyes when the two of them had turned up at the warming-up place. They had been chased away by security almost immediately, but now, in the darkness of the box, Burke could see Virdon’s face before him as if he was staring at a screen. His commander was already planning something...

_For someone who insists that we’ve been marooned on this hellhole for all eternity, you sure cling to your old command structure._

Yeah, well, even if _he_ didn’t believe in their return to a human _-_ ruled Earth, Virdon still did; and Virdon still saw him as his subordinate, his responsibility. Burke was absolutely sure that he’d get him out of Sapan, somehow. He clung to that certainty like a drowning man clings to a piece of deadwood to keep him afloat.

With a resounding crack, the starting gun went off, and the door flung open.

Burke threw himself into the roaring light.


	26. Chapter 26

Zana dropped the children off at the reception, and asked the young volunteer where to find Halda.

„She’s in one of the workhouses,“ the girl replied, fending off Evon’s balloon that he kept bumping into her face. „One of the artists suggested a new design, and they’re trying it out.“

Zana turned to Mezzal. „What a stroke of good luck, don’t you think? To have the artist present at the negotiations! I’m sure they are as eager to see their art represented in the big city as you are!“ If her luck persisted, the starving artist would take Mezzal’s side against Halda, prolonging the haggle over the prize long enough for Zana to find...

... something. At least enough to give Rogan a reason to seal the office and turn it upside down and inside out.

Mezzal grumbled something under his breath and left.

Evon jumped up and down, tearing at the girl’s sleeve. „Palia look, I got a horse!“ Palia indulgently bent down to have a look at the toy, momentarily distracted.

With a last look at the children, Zana softly closed the door and hurried down the corridor to Halda’s office.

Inside, she had to lean against the door for a moment. Her heart was racing, making the blood rush in her ears, making her dizzy and slightly nauseous. If Halda caught her rifling through her desk again, she would accept no explanations this time.

_ Do you still believe her to be innocent? Then you wouldn’t be here. And if you’re right, and she did kill poor Felga, then she has no right to be indignant, and you have no reason to feel guilty. _

No, but maybe Halda would do more than just feel indignant.

Well, she’d better get to work if she wanted to be out of this room again before Mezzal lost his patience with Halda - again -, and panting against the wall would only waste precious time. Zana bit her lip to stop the prickling sensation in it, and determinedly crossed the room to find that cursed book.

It was in the second drawer, underneath a fake bottom. Zana absently thought that recognizing that fake bottom so quickly said worrisome things about how she had changed over the past few months, but she didn’t have the time to examine that thought more closely.

She focused on the numbers in that small, leather-bound book instead, glad that Halda’s script was as sharp and orderly as Galen’s, though much smaller. It looked vaguely familiar, though she couldn’t remember where she had seen it before. In any case, it made it easier to find the receipts for Halda’s catering service - the one that only existed on paper. They were fatefully listed for every year of the race...

Zana frowned. She didn’t know much about book-keeping, but weren’t those books kept on a yearly basis, a new book for each year?

She began to pay attention to the other entries in the book; they, too, went back for ten years - payments to  _ Tall Timber  _ for a loan that the charity had taken on.

_ I can’t imagine that Felga would  _ ever _ have accepted money from Olman, not even to save the charity, or- _

She looked up to the photographs on the wall, where the workhouses were shown in various stages of construction.

_ I wonder what Halda told her about where  _ that _ money came from - a mysterious, anonymous donor? _

And would Felga have believed it? Perhaps, if you wanted that shelter so very much, if it was your life’s dream...

But maybe Felga had started digging, too, when she had stumbled over that faked catering service. Or maybe she had believed that Halda was really sending their humans to Olman for money, and they had fought over it...

Zana lowered her gaze to the book once more; something was niggling at the back of her mind, something that she had noticed without realizing what it was...

It took her long moments of staring at the pages, while the pressure in her mind was mounting and mounting until she wanted to hurl the book against the wall with a frustrated scream. When she finally saw it, it was so blatant that she almost laughed with incredulity.

The numbers for the payment that Halda „received“ for her imaginary services from Olman were exactly the same as the rates that she paid back to him for that loan-plus-interest. Money was flowing through Halda’s charity from Olman, back to Olman, without any of it going  _ into _ the charity at all.

Olman was laundering money through Halda’s and Felga’s charity, with Halda’s knowledge and consent.

_ Correction - with Halda’s active cooperation. _

The fact that Halda was keeping meticulous notes on these transactions told Zana that the little Chimp didn’t trust Olman as far as she could throw him; why else would she collect evidence against him, except for holding it over his head in case… in case… 

There was no chance that Felga would have allowed this to happen. Halda had been acting behind her back, and Zana didn’t want to imagine Felga’s reaction when she had found out. It must have involved lots of shouting, and then...

... she still couldn’t imagine Halda succeeding with killing Felga. Felga had been taller, heavier - it must’ve come as a complete surprise, from behind, a malicious attack while she had turned her back to her best friend...

_ „What _ are you doing there? Don’t tell me you were looking at my photographs again!“

Zana looked up, jerked out of her musings. Halda was standing in the door, just like she had been a few hours earlier, fixing her with the same hard, disapproving glare as before. As if  _ Zana _ were the one who had done something wrong.

Zana slowly rose from her chair, closing the book with a snap.

„What you begged me to do, when we met over Felga’s corpse, Halda - I found her murderer.“

* * *

They agreed to split up on their way to the inn, Galen heading to town to buy ammunition „for hunting,“ and Virdon going ahead to alert Zana. With the way his leg was acting up again, Virdon supposed Galen would catch up with him before he was even there.

When he finally reached the inn, Zana had already left, presumably to watch Burke run. Virdon stood under the door, trying to catch his breath, and silently cursed his leg for slowing him down, Galen for getting them into this mess, and Hasslein for stranding them on this world in the first place.

Well. He’d send Galen to find his fiancée. The ape would at least be out of the way, then, while he...

Virdon limped to the table and slumped into a chair. How in hell was he supposed to get Pete out of this trap? Did he really think he could storm the gates, guns blazing... well, one gun blazing...

... and he wouldn’t be storming the gates, more limping towards them. Virdon curled a fist on his hip, hating that scar, that injured nerve, with a passion he hadn’t thought he'd be capable of. Curse his bad luck that day! Curse that day!

This wasn’t helpful. He couldn’t waste time with raging at things he couldn’t change, not now.  _ Think! This is just a problem to solve, just a, a condition I have to take into account... _

He rose and stepped to the window, purposely putting weight on his bad leg, daring it to falter. It didn’t, but each step was wobbly and painful. He wouldn’t be able to just will it into functioning, no matter how urgently he needed it to be reliable again.

When he looked out of the window, Galen was already hurrying up the street; the ape would be barging into their rooms in a moment, fully expecting him to have a plan ready. Virdon turned away, new anger stiffening his shoulders. Galen’s indiscriminate fury had found a random victim, but Galen didn’t seem to be concerned about Burke, only about how it affected his own standing with Zana. Good thing she wasn’t here - he could send Galen away to go find her, and after that, to pack up their things, load up their wagon, hitch up the horses-

The horses. Virdon stilled, one hand grabbing the backrest of a chair, as it hit him that they didn’t necessarily need both horses to pull the wagon. Granted, they used both of them most of the time, to ease the horses’ load, but for the short distance to the town’s outskirts, Tala would be able to do the job, while Apache would lend him four good legs.

Virdon closed his eyes and shook his head.  _ Great plan. Too bad I didn’t think of bringing my Stetson with me. _

His bout of amusement vanished when he heard the door open. Galen came in huffing and puffing, and threw a box on the table with a thud. „Here’s your ammunition - it should be enough to take out a whole garrison.“

„Assuming they don’t return fire,“ Virdon said friendly, but he reached for the box to inspect its contents. „I couldn’t find Zana,“ he continued, turning away to get the gun, „she’s probably gone to the races, to watch Pete.“

Galen muttered a curse under his breath, which Virdon ignored. He sat down to load Betsy, demonstratively focusing on his task. „I thought it best if you went looking for her and packed up our things,“ he said casually. „You’re quicker on your feet than I am, and time is running out for all of us here.“

„Yes, you’re, you’re right,“ Galen said absently. When Virdon looked up, the ape was still standing in the same spot as before, looking utterly lost.

It occurred to Virdon that he had no idea how old Galen was, or what the human equivalent to that age would be. Both apes had held jobs when they had met, so he had always assumed them to be of roughly the same age as Burke, at least.

Maybe it wasn’t a matter of age, though - maybe it was one of experience.

Or of character.

„The races have probably already begun,“ he said, lowering his gaze to the weapon again. „I won’t have a chance to get Pete off Olman’s ground, I have to intercept them once they’re leaving the stadium. I’m taking Apache with me - I need every advantage I can get.“

„You want to  _ sit on a horse? In town?“ _

If anything, Galen sounded more shocked than outraged, but Virdon wasn’t in the mood to placate simian sensibilities right now. He closed the magazine with a snap, and looked up.

„That’s right, I'll be sitting on that horse’s back, without asking an ape for permission. And then I’ll take my friend from these apes’ hands, and I won't ask permission for that, either.“ He carefully laid the gun on the table; it made a muted thud on the wooden tabletop, an ominous sound in the sudden silence that filled the room.

For a long moment, human and ape stared at each other.

„You better find Zana, Galen,“ Virdon said softly. „Because once I’ve got Pete, I’m not going to wait around for you.“

Galen turned and left without a word, and Virdon leaned back in his chair, raking both hands through his hair with a sigh. Despite his last words to Galen, he would have no choice but to wait for the apes - they had all their supplies, and even more importantly, all their paperwork.

Virdon involuntarily ground his teeth at that last thought.

They only had to make it across the passes. Once they were north of the mountains, Urko’s hench-apes couldn’t reach them anymore. They’d have time to regroup, to hatch a new plan. Do some reconnaissance about the area to the west of them. Maybe it was just impenetrable for apes. Maybe there would be other cities there, and this time they’d go in prepared, and with enough time...

He’d deal with this crisis. And then they’d cross the pass. And then he’d decide where to go from there.

Virdon grabbed the gun, and the spare ammo, and headed for the stables.


	27. Chapter 27

He was out, in the light, in the air, his naked feet pounding the ground, arms pumping, feeling like falling forward and trying to catch up with himself. It wasn’t running, it was out of control, a confused flight down a roaring, howling corridor of flickering colors-

Apes. Those were apes, jumping and screeching in their stands, and to the left of him was open space, the green expanse of the lawn that the racetrack looped around, and all of a sudden, Burke remembered where he was again, and the whirling mass of noise and color snapped into sharp focus again - the racers all around him, and to his right, the grandstand packed with enthusiastic fans.

Not apes, fans. Just fans.

Burke eased up a bit, letting himself fall behind the field, to catch his breath and regain control of his movement. The roaring of the crowd was branding against his skin in showers of prickling energy, as the tiny hairs of his body reacted to every swelling of the noise, every peak of excitement while the announcer whipped the spectators into an ever higher frenzy.

It was like surfing a wave, or could’ve been, but he had missed the right moment, and now he was struggling underwater, tossed around by the current, dragging his numb legs through sucking silt, fighting for the next breath. His chest ached, and his legs were shaking.

He was still in a panic, but there was nothing he could do about it, except trying to finish that race and be done with it. Burke tried to ignore the cacophony to his right, and focused on the racers ahead of him. He didn’t care about winning this race, but if he pretended that the field before him was a tactical problem he had to solve, maybe he’d be able to at least _reach_ that finish line.

Ahead of him were three racers running head-to-head - they wore different colors, so maybe they didn’t consciously try to block him, but it wasn’t completely out of the question; sometimes, runners teamed up temporarily, to force a dangerous competitor to take the longer route over the outer lane, or against one of the more aggressive racers of Vilam’s kennel. Once the common enemy was out of the way, they would resume their natural competition and try to outrace, or out-foul each other.

Intentional or not, the effect was the same - if Burke wanted to overtake them, he’d have to take the outer lane, too. He’d have to be _much_ faster than even a weak racer, just to have a chance.

Well, he had just decided that these assholes were nothing more than a problem he had to solve, like some damn equation at school. He could either ram through - but then he might get disqualified by the stewards - or just run circles around them, and show them what racing really meant.

It occurred to him a moment too late that swerving out brought him closer to the stands.

Later, Burke could never tell what had set him off; he didn’t even remember overtaking the first racer. Maybe it had been the roar of the crowd as they saw Liquid Fire gear up for another of his famous sprints from behind; maybe it was the sudden movement above him, as hundreds of excited apes jumped up from their seats at the same moment; maybe it was the smell that wafted down from the stands, not sweat - apes didn’t sweat like humans - but something dark and musky.

Like the smell in Urko’s dungeon.

It was as if a curtain dropped on Burke’s mind, filtering the crowd’s screams into the hoarse shouts of the bounty hunters. A horse whinnied in the distance, and he was back in Atlanta, racing down an overgrown alley, no openings to either side, no chance of escape. He could only run, and run, down a winding road under a leaden sky, hunted by Urko’s men, by bounty hunters, by apes, by a hissing, tearing darkness-

His lungs were aching, air rushing through his throat in heaving sobs, but he didn’t dare to stop, to glance back at what was coming after him. He didn’t know where he was anymore, who _he_ was anymore; he only knew that the thing chasing him couldn’t catch up, couldn’t get him, couldn’t drag him back to that place again...

To the cheers of the crowd, Pete Burke ran for his life.

* * *

Halda closed the door behind her, and slowly approached the desk. „You did? Who was it?“

Zana just watched her, ready to bolt if she made a sudden move.

„You have no proof I had anything to do with Felga’s death,“ Halda said sweetly, and stretched out her hand. „But I just caught you trespassing and stealing the charity’s property. Well, trying to.“

Zana moved to the corner of the desk, keeping the distance between them. „Where were you in the night of Felga’s death, Halda?“

Halda moved around the desk, and Zana stepped around the next corner. They were circling each other like a pair of bushcats. „I was at home.“

Zana smiled sadly. „No, you weren’t.“

Halda said nothing to that, but the glint in her eyes told Zana that she realized at once who had inadvertently betrayed her. Now she probably regretted letting Zana invite her children for a day at the fair.

„You have no alibi for the night of Felga’s death - and Vilam’s death, either, by the way,“ Zana continued. „And I,“ she held up the book, „just found a compelling motive for you. That combination will make Rogan reconsider the murder weapon.“

She nodded at Halda’s scarf. „I heard you have hundreds of those. In every color of the rainbow... including blue.“

Halda made a sudden grab for the book, lunging across the desk, and Zana jumped back, almost knocking over the visitor’s chair.

„That book doesn’t prove anything,“ Halda snapped.

„It proves that you were laundering money for Olman, at least,“ Zana retorted; they had both stilled, and were now watching each other across the desk, ready to jump to action at the slightest provocation. „The same Olman you wanted to frame for Felga’s murder. Did he blackmail you? Did he want to use the shelter for something else, something even you balked at?“

„Are you trying to provoke me into some sort of confession, Alta?“ Halda sneered. „What for? To satisfy your curiosity?“

„You and Felga were _best friends,_ Halda!“ Zana kept her eyes trained on the little Chimp, while trying to feel the distance to the door with her mind - the empty space behind her. She couldn’t just retreat to the door, or Halda would jump at her from behind that desk at once. She had to make a dash for it, at a moment where the other woman was distracted enough to miss that first tensing of her muscles, that subtle leaning of her body into the motion...

„You attacked her from behind, while she had turned her back to you,“ Zana continued. „She _trusted_ you, and you betrayed that in the worst possible way. I don’t think ‘curiosity’ is the right word here.“

„I didn’t betray her,“ Halda snarled. „The shelter suffered no damage, nobody was hurt-“

_„Two people were killed, and you claim that nobody was hurt?“_

„No human was harmed!“ Halda yelled. „They weren’t even in the stadium, so what was the problem? Why did she suddenly care so much about this slave-holder?“

It took Zana a moment to catch up with Halda’s erratic thoughts. „Levar? He didn’t abuse his humans with _Blaze-“_

„No, he just abused them on the racetrack,“ Halda hissed. „That was so much better! It’s amazing what a penis can suddenly make acceptable!“

„You forged that complaint in Felga’s name,“ Zana accused her. „What did you hope to gain? Felga would’ve revoked it the moment she’d learned about it, at the court summons...“ They had circled the desk again, and now Halda was between her and the door, and Zana found herself wedged between the desk and the wall.

Halda stopped moving.

„He’d have broken up with her, and she’d have finally come to her senses again,“ she said. „And once the police gets notified about possession of _Blaze,_ it doesn’t matter anymore who told them. They’d have searched his grounds, and then he’d have ended up in jail, just as he deserves.“

„You like dealing out justice to people who deserve it,“ Zana casually propped her hands on the edge of the desk. It was entirely possible that Halda would shove the desk against the wall, trapping her, and she wanted to be prepared for that. „What did Felga do to deserve your brand of justice, other than to uncover your shady dealings with the man you wanted to frame for her murder?“

Halda just stared at her.

Then she jumped over the desk, eyes wide and wild.

Zana ducked and raced around the desk, dropped the book, and yanked up the chair to ram its legs into Halda’s chest. The Chimp stumbled back against the desk with a thump, but in the next moment, Halda had pushed away again, and grabbed the chair’s legs. Zana hung on to the backrest, too afraid of what Halda would do with the chair to let go.

They wrestled with the chair, too focused on the fight to speak for a while. „You betrayed her when you killed her, Halda,“ Zana finally gasped. „Don’t play dumb. You killed your best friend, for a man you both despised!“

„She didn’t want to _listen,“_ Hada snarled, and yanked so hard at the chair that Zana stumbled towards her before she could dig her heels in.

Halda let go of the chair and threw a punch, too quickly for Zana to react; sharp pain suddenly exploded in her nose, crushing the inside of her bones so hard that her teeth hurt and her eyes watered, and for a moment, everything went black.

When her head cleared, she was lying on her back, with Halda looming over her. Hot fingers closed around Zana’s throat.

„I had to protect my babies,“ Halda said, her fingers twitching against Zana’s skin. „That’s something you can’t understand, you barren cow.“

She squeezed, and white sparks began to dance before Zana’s eyes. Above her, Halda bared her teeth. „Felga would’ve had me locked up in jail. Who would’ve taken care of my children then?“

The edges of Zana’s vision began to blacken. She tore at Halda’s wrists, but it was like scratching at marble. „I only agreed to that deal with Olman because my children were starving,“ she heard Halda’s voice far above her. „Mending clothes, keeping books... they all wanted my services, but nobody wants to pay fair. That’s something neither Felga nor you understood - life isn’t fair.“ The pressure on her throat increased.

„If you want to survive, you can’t afford mercy.“


	28. Chapter 28

Panic raced through Zana’s body, hot and prickling. _I’m dying. I’m dying on this floor, right now._

For some reason, it wasn’t Galen's face that flashed before her mind’s eye, or Alan's. It was Peet's, and her eyes welled up at the thought that she would never see him again. She should’ve found out what had made him so mad at her... she should’ve visited him at the racetrack...

Peet with his quick smile and his equally quick frown, and his silly fondness for that gun, and his evening lectures in the wagon, rambling on and on about the innumerable human fighting styles that he had learned back in his own time, _an’ you know, most people waste their time with tearing at the hands of the guy who’s trying to strangle you, an’ I’m saying_ trying to, _because if you know what to do, they don’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell to go through with it-_

Zana wished that she’d taken him up on his offer to practice those moves with her, during those long weeks of their journey up North, but she had always put it off, feeling silly to wrestle with a human...

She felt nauseous and confused, her consciousness dimming rapidly as the pressure on her throat increased.

Then Peet’s voice was in her ear, as loud and clear as if he was kneeling at her side.

_You know they’re dumb, because they’re using both their hands, while your hands and legs are free... you gotta block one of her arms, just choose one..._

Left... left side... she’d choose... the left one...

_So, you hook your right hand over her left wrist, an’ you push against her elbow with your left hand... you wanna block her arm, y’know?_

She grabbed Halda’s wrist and elbow, trying to pull her hand away from her throat a bit, she was going to throw up, and it _hurt-_

_An’ now you buck! Like a horse!_

She jerked her hips upward, but Halda clung on, extending her leg to the side to resist the motion.

_Leg... forgot to block the leg... and now she knows what I’m trying to do..._

Zana hooked her leg over Halda’s, and tried again, bucking up like Ahpahchee when he had an especially bad day.

The terrible pressure on her throat lifted, as Halda was flipped over, and Zana rotated with her, still dazed, and faintly surprised to find herself on top of her all of a sudden.

She grabbed the woman’s wrists to pin her arms to the ground, and stared into Halda’s tense face, suddenly at a loss what to do next. She didn’t dare to let go of Halda’s arms to take her head into her hands and smash it against the ground, like she had done with the nurse in Maltus’ clinic, and she didn’t want to seriously injure the woman. But even with her head ringing, Zana realized that she wouldn’t be able to restrain Halda for long.

Her nose was throbbing, and running, and for a moment, she almost let go of Halda to lean back and not drip snot all over her. Then she realized that she was dripping blood. It hit Halda’s cheek and ran down to the side of her head, and into her hair.

„You can’t kill me here, Halda,“ Zana said, her voice thick and rough through her clogged nose. „There’s no way they would _not_ know it was you - here, at this time, with all these people just on the other side of the door... Mezzal, Palia...“

Halda just screamed, a strangled, inarticulate roar, and jerked her head up and into Zana’s face.

It felt as if she had been kicked by a horse; something crunched and _moved_ inside her skull, and the pain felt as if someone was squeezing the bones behind her nose tighter and tighter, and all Zana could think of was to let go, to push away and scramble back-

Her fingertips painfully hit against the book. The one thing that would convince Rogan to investigate her involvement in this rampage... if she managed to survive the current attack. Zana yanked her arm up and smashed the book’s spine into Halda’s face.

Halda didn’t even wince.

And then Zana had no time to think about the book, she was too busy grappling with Halda, to keep the Chimp’s hands away from her throat. She managed to get a hit in, her fist connecting with Halda’s chin and jerking her head back, but her arms were feeling heavy and weak, and she realized with a start that she was running out of time. She still hadn’t fully recovered from her surgery, and exhaustion was setting in quickly.

Halda suddenly jerked back as if she had read her mind; too dazed to react, Zana’s gaze followed her fist as it rose above Halda’s head and came down again.

Straight into her belly.

It felt as if she had been hit by lightning, a slashing pain radiating from the epicenter of Halda’s assault, choking her breath, freezing her limbs, and making her want to throw up. She was paralyzed, petrified, unable to prevent anything that was happening to her.

Darkness closed in on her from all sides, a malicious, tearing, choking darkness, and Galen wasn’t anywhere, he was on the other side of the darkness, unable to see her, unable to find her...

She coiled up to shield herself against the creatures falling out of that darkness, trying to shield her throat, her belly, her _baby,_ but they were tearing at her, stretching her out, and she had nothing to keep them from digging into her flesh, digging for the life in her womb, nothing, nothing but a _knife-_

Peet’s knife. Still strapped to her arm, because he had insisted that she didn’t let it out of her reach even for a moment...

The moment of clarity blinked out again, but the awareness of the weight at her arm remained. Zana squirmed, rolled around on her belly, and tried to crawl away from Halda.

A weight clamped down on her back and something hard and narrow pressed against her throat, and she felt as if she was swallowing something impossibly big, or her own tongue, and it _hurt,_ so much, they were everywhere now, hanging on her legs, her arms, her back-

Zana broke down under that weight, arms limp above her head, the knife’s hilt scraping across the floor, as she flailed weakly, the knife at her arm, the knife the knife

The weight lifted. The pressure on her throat vanished. Black spots bloomed in Zana’s vision, indigo clouds that wafted and melted into each other. She wanted to throw up; she wanted to swallow, but couldn’t.

When she finally pushed herself up on her elbows and looked over her shoulder, Halda was crumpled against the toppled chair, silent and unmoving. Zana stared at her, unsure of what had just happened.

The hilt of Peet’s knife poked out from Halda’s body. Zana’s fingers flexed unconsciously, and the movement made her aware of how sticky her right hand was. She turned up her palm and stared at it. It was bright red with blood... blood that was already drying, turning rust-colored and sticky.

She looked at Halda again, understanding slowly dawning in her. _Mothers, I killed her! I killed an ape! Oh merciful Mothers, oh no, oh no, oh no..._

She slowly crawled over to Halda, every movement sending hot jolts of pain through her belly and into her thighs. Her throat felt swollen, and it was difficult to breathe. Her face, no, her whole skull felt smashed into a thousand pieces, like one of Halda’s vases, only held together by fur and skin, and sheer stubbornness.

Zana gingerly turned Halda’s body around, and almost sobbed with relief when she saw that the woman was still breathing. _I didn’t kill her, oh thank the Mothers!_

But the knife was buried in Halda’s ribcage, on the right side where the liver was, as Zana had learned from one of Galen’s medical scrolls, and that was still a dangerous place to leave a knife in.

She had to get help. Halda needed a doctor at once.

Zana came to her knees, and used the desk to draw herself up on her feet, only to bowl over with pain again. That punch to her gut was still twisting her insides... what if Halda had torn a suture inside? What if she was bleeding internally? The thought made Zana dizzy, or maybe it was the lack of air from Halda’s choking grip that made her sway on her feet as she stumbled towards the door.

She almost fell over the book, bent down to pick it up and hide it in her robe, and felt too weak to get up from the floor again. She crawled to the door and out into the corridor.

It was deserted. Zana closed her eyes for a moment, which was a mistake, because now the spinning in her head increased tenfold. She squinted down the corridor.

The reception was too far away. She’d never make it back to Palia.

Zana crawled on regardless, on all four, swaying from one side to the other as if drunk, bumping her shoulder against the wall with every step. She tried to call for help, but her throat was almost completely swollen shut now, and she only managed to produce a whispered croak.

The dark spots were expanding like ink drops in water now, and the rushing in her ears drowned out all other sounds. A shadow fell over her, or maybe she was just fainting, and someone’s hand was on her back, and she could hear a voice, but it was all far, far away, and she couldn’t understand the words-

... and then she slipped away, into dark and empty waters.

* * *

Deep voices filtered down to where Zana was hovering, waking her up just enough to realize that she wasn’t dead. She dimly remembered that she had hurt, and that pain was floating above her, at the surface.

For a while, she listened to the steady murmur of male voices, content to stay in this in-between place, safely away from the light and the pain of the waking world.

Then something wet and cold coiled around her throat.

Zana jerked up, and winced. Bright light pierced her eyes, and sent stabs of white-hot pain through her battered skull. The wet pressure slid off her neck, and she realized that it had been a piece of cloth, soaked in cold water, that someone had put around her swollen throat. She blindly searched for it, and put it back in place. Now that she knew what it was, its coolness was soothing.

Hasty steps thundered towards her, making her flinch, but she couldn’t cover her ears, or the wet cloth would slide down again; and she also couldn’t tell whoever this was to tread lightly, because her throat felt thick and sore, too painful to even try to speak.

Instead, she tried to open her eyes at least a tiny bit, and squinted at the shadow that was now hunkering down before her. It laid a hand on her shoulder, and somehow, the movement told her it was Galen. „Mothers, Zana! You’re awake! Are you alright?“

Indignance gave her the strength to force out a whisper. „What does it look like to you?“

His fingers flexed involuntarily on her shoulder, and she regretted her outburst. „I hurt all over, Galen. But I’ll live.“

„You gave me quite a fright.“ His fingers dug harder into her shoulder. „How could you be so reckless? She could’ve killed you!“

It was amazing how anger could drown out pain. Maybe that’s why Peet flared up so readily. Zana fully opened her eyes to glare at her fiancé. „Nobody else would’ve suspected her, and then who would’ve died next?“

„Not you,“ Galen murmured. Zana didn’t grace him with an answer to that. At least he had the decency to look ashamed.

She craned her neck to peer down the corridor - she was sitting propped up against the wall at the same spot where she had broken down, apparently - to where the door of Halda’s office still stood wide open. „How is Halda? Is she... did I...?“

„She’s alive,“ a new voice from above answered. Zana cautiously tilted her head back, and wished she hadn’t. But she could meet Constable Rogan’s eyes for a moment, before her lids drooped shut.

„Good,“ she murmured.

„At least she was, when they carried her outside,“ Rogan’s voice continued, sinking towards the floor as he spoke. He was crouching down before her, too, like Galen had. Zana dazedly wondered if Galen would have the presence of mind to keep his jealousy in check this time. She didn’t want any of them to be arrested right now. The situation was already volatile enough.

„But you stuck that knife into her liver,“ Rogan’s voice continued, „and that’s a nasty place to bury a knife. Well done.“

„I don’t even remember that,“ Zana murmured. „We fought... she tried to strangle me...“

„Do you, by any chance, remember what I told you about staying away from crime scenes?“ Rogan asked. It was difficult to tell if he was angry; his voice was completely bland.

Zana fought against the urge to swallow; it was painful, and pointless, anyway, since her throat and mouth were parched. „She was laundering money for Olman... she admitted to strangling Felga while we fought...“

„That seems to be her method of choice,“ Rogan commented dryly. „Well, Dr. Aldo is doing everything he can to save her life, so that we can hang her properly. And I’ll need your statement later.“

His casual words sent a chill through Zana. Yes, she had wanted to stop Halda - someone had to. And it was only right that Halda would have to answer for her crimes before the court. But Zana hadn’t followed that train of thought down to its inevitable consequence: that if Halda was found guilty of those crimes, she would have to face the usual punishment for it.

Halda’s words were ringing in her ears. „She has two little children,“ Zana murmured. „What will become of _them?“_

„They’ll live with some relatives,“ Rogan said, his shrug almost audible. „She should’ve thought of them before she tried to kill you.“

Zana felt for the book under her robe. To her surprise, it was still there, tucked under her belt. She pulled it out, and handed it to Rogan, who took it with an intrigued frown.

„What’s that?“

„Halda’s secret accounting book,“ Zana whispered. „Her insurance against Olman, I suppose, and proof that she laundered money for Olman... and you have to wonder why _he’d_ need to launder money in the first place...“ She tiredly watched as Rogan began to flip through the pages. „The rates for the shelter are the same as...“

„Yes, I see it,“ Rogan murmured gleefully. He closed the book with a snap, and grinned at her. „Alta, sweetheart, that was some nice detective work you done there. Are you sure you don’t want to join the force?“

Zana took a quick inventory of her aches and pains, including her shoulder that had begun to feel sore from Galen’s fingers that were digging hard into her joint now, and smiled weakly. „I’m sure, Rogan, but thanks for the offer.“ She laid her hand on Galen’s, and felt his fingers relax under hers. „I only wanted to make right by a friend. I’m not cut out to hunt murderers for a living.“

Rogan tapped the book against his knee. „Well, this will get old Olman into a pickle he can’t buy his way out of.“

„She killed Felga, when Felga found out,“ Zana whispered. „I don’t think Felga was killed with a racer’s bandage, Rogan. Halda has scarves...“ She remembered the blue thread in the chip box that was tucked away under her bed, together with the rest of the stolen evidence, and decided to tell Rogan later. When she could stand without support.

„Don’t worry, Alta, we’ll turn her hut inside out, just like the shelter,“ Rogan said, the glint of the hunt bright in his eyes. „Whatever else she’s hiding, we’ll find it.“

He turned his head when new steps announced another arrival. „Aldo should’ve sent for a transport by now - you’re not his priority, obviously, but he said he wanted to examine you after he...“

His voice trailed away, and he stiffened with a frown. Zana followed his gaze; it wasn’t some nurse who came down the hallway, but Junior, his face a thunderous scowl. She hoped it wasn’t his only facial expression. Maybe it was just the sight of her that turned the young guard so sour...

Rogan rose. „What’s it now?“

Junior pulled him a few steps aside and broke into furious muttering. Rogan listened, laughed, and turned back to Zana with a sigh.

„I swear, life has never been as, ah, _lively,_ before you arrived here, Alta,“ he said with an exasperated grin. „Your human is down at the stadium - on a horse, no less - holding Olman at gunpoint, and demanding the release of your _other_ human. Care to tell me what this is all about, before I give Junior permission to deal with it? And how in Cesar’s name did your human get its hands on a gun _and ammunition?“_

Zana stared at him for a moment, too stunned for words, then turned her head to gape at Galen. She didn’t dare to ask him, mostly because her throbbing head couldn’t remember which name he was currently using.

Galen straightened. „I gave him the gun,“ he said, and Zana could hear the slight tremble in his calm voice, „and I allowed him to get our other human back by whatever means necessary.“

Zana closed her eyes. Trust the men to turn this into an absolute disaster...

„Didn’t you sell your other human to Olman for an outrageous price?“ she heard Rogan ask, his voice still vacillating between amusement and exasperation. „It was the talk of town.“

„No, he, he tricked me,“ Galen stuttered.

„At thirty thousand _sembles,_ I’d say he tricked himself,“ Rogan said dryly.

Zana cut in, before Galen could dig himself into an even deeper hole. „It was my fault - I had sent my husband to Olman’s office, to find out where he was in the night of Felga’s murder, and he... Olman turned up all of a sudden, and surprised him, and, well, he needed a good reason to be there, didn’t he? But we never intended to sell Dehni.“

Rogan made a noise that was a mixture of a groan, a laugh, and a sigh. „Oh Alta... I take back my offer - you’d sell the watch house in the course of your investigations. Well. Pretense or not, that’s something a court has to decide, not a human with a gun. That could get you in trouble, Faro, but considering your wife aided our investigation with a piece of substantial evidence, I’m willing to forget this ever happened, if you manage to talk down your human.“

„I... I’m not sure he’ll listen to me,“ Galen said weakly. „They are close...“

Rogan narrowed his eyes. „Let me make this a bit clearer for you, Faro: you’re in deep trouble right now, no matter what Alta did. I’m doing this for her sake, not yours. Considering the new evidence against Olman,“ he held up Halda’s book, „I’m willing to confiscate the human until the question of ownership has been cleared up. So he won’t have to go with Olman right now. But that’s as far as I’m willing to go. You talk down your crazy human, or I’ll give my men permission to fire at will.“

Zana peeled Galen’s hand from her shoulder. _„Go,“_ she whispered urgently. „Don’t let anything happen to them!“

He shot her a last, worried glance, before he scrambled to his feet and followed Junior outside.

Rogan called for Palia, and told her to stay with Zana until the sick transport arrived. Then he crouched down before Zana and regarded her thoughtfully for a moment. He stretched out a hand, and gently touched her face. „I think she broke your nose there.“

„She has a mean punch,“ Zana whispered. „So much anger under that sweet surface.“

„I meant what I said,“ Rogan murmured. „That was good detective work. Your tenacity has paid off. I bow to your diligence and dedication.“

„I was mostly fumbling in the dark,“ Zana said uncomfortably. „No need to praise me like that.“

Rogan smiled at her. „You’re too humble, Alta. I really wonder how you ended up with a guy like Faro.“

„He’s a good man,“ Zana said quickly. „He’s just... he doesn’t know how to deal with our loss...“

It was true, she realized. Galen hadn’t been avoiding _her;_ he had been running from his own grief. He would never be a father, not if he stayed with her. She had never thought of that before, only grieved her own loss.

„Is there nothing you can do to save my human from Olman, Rogan?“ she pleaded. „I never meant to sacrifice anyone to catch Felga’s murderer. It’s not right that he should have to pay for my mistake.“

„Looks more like your husband’s mistake, from where I’m standing,“ Rogan muttered. „I won’t promise you anything, Alta, but depending on what kind of dirt I find on Olman, maybe I can bury this whole thing under a mountain of paperwork. If Olman is too busy fending off a lawsuit, maybe he’ll forget about it, too. Did you already receive money for the human?“

Zana mutely shook her head, praying to the Mothers that Galen hadn’t been that stupid.

Rogan rose. „Well, that’s something at least. I need to go - I have offices to seal, arrests to make.“ The rakish grin was back. „I wish you could stay in Sapan, Alta - my job would become so much more exciting.“

He left, and Zana tiredly let her head drop against the wall and closed her eyes, doing her best to ignore Palia, who was putting a new cloth, dripping with cold water, around her neck.

 _You have no idea what you just wished for, Rogan,_ she thought. _Believe me, you wouldn’t want my kind of excitement._

_I just hope we can leave quickly enough that it doesn’t catch up with us here._


	29. Chapter 29

„It’s just some _clothes!“_ Zana clutched the bundle to her chest and glared at Galen. „It’s not heavy, and you don’t need to cuddle me! Dr. Aldo said I was fine!“

„It’s not about the weight, but about you not trudging up and down those stairs a hundred times,“ Galen argued, but he made no move to grab for the clothes. „That woman beat you up like a street thug!“

„He’s right, for once.“ Alan gently pulled the bundle from her hands, and steered her towards the door. „Why don’t you go down and have an eye on Pete while we finish packing up here? He’s a bit... a bit...“

He paused, and Zana glanced up into his worried face and decided that it wasn’t a ruse to get her out of the way. According to Alan, Peet had won the race only because his mind had jumped back to that day the bounty hunters had captured him; trapped in that memory, Peet had run for his life, and had overtaken the whole racing field, winning by several lengths.

And immediately after that desperate flight, he had been caught by apes, even if those apes had been officers of the Sapan town watch, and had been taken away, and thrown into a cell.

Junior had brought back Pete this morning, and after one look into his shuttered face, Zana had retreated upstairs and busied herself with throwing things into backpacks, and getting under everyone’s feet. She hadn’t forgotten Peet’s last outburst against her, and she had a feeling he wasn’t too fond of seeing an ape now.

„I think it would be better if it was your eyes on him than mine,“ she demurred, but Alan shook his head.

„This is a world of apes, whether Pete likes it or not,“ he said. „He can’t keep running away from that fact.“

„And I’m to be the object for his aversion therapy?“ Zana asked, irritated. „Alright, I’ll sit my butt into the wagon while you two champions clean up here.“ She stalked away before the human could say anything.

She changed her mind immediately when she saw the sole visitor in the guestroom.

Rogan rose from his seat, and for once, his quick once-over didn’t feel flirtatious, but like genuine concern. „How are you, Alta?“

„Fi- better. It still hurts when I laugh, so don’t try to be funny.“ She slowly made her way over to him, and sank into the chair he pulled out for her. „I hope you’re not here to take my human back. I won’t allow that.“

Rogan sat down across from her with a lopsided smile. „Mothers forbid that I try to wrest your human from your hands, Alta. No, I thought you might be curious about the case, and about the latest gossip before you leave.“

„I wouldn’t have thought you to be a gossip, Constable,“ Zana teased.

„Well, nothing’s official yet, so what else should I call it?“ Rogan grinned. „First things first - Halda survived, and we had a very interesting chat with her this morning. She’s willing to tell us everything about her deal with Olman, and about Olman’s deals with the Chief, and the Prefect.“ He leaned back in his seat, his grin becoming feral now. „I alerted the District Chief to the latest developments, and for the time being, Chief Tugal is taking an extended holiday, while I’m Acting Chief of the watch.“

„Congratulations on your field promotion, Acting Chief,“ Zana said dryly. „What kind of payment has Halda been promised for her services?“

„I detect a note of disapprovement in your voice, Alta,“ Rogan chided her. „Would you’ve preferred it that we kill a bushcat, and let the hyena continue to ravage the valley with _Blaze?_ And not just this valley.“

Zana regarded him steadily. „You haven’t answered my question.“

Rogan scratched his head. „She’ll be spared the gallows. She’ll go to jail for many years, but her children will still have a mother they can visit. Weren’t you worried about her little kids?“

„And where will they live between those visits?“ Zana wanted to know. „Who will feed and clothe them? Love them?“

She had agonized over these questions for the last three days. Halda had no living relatives, and neither had her late husband. It was a very unusual constellation - normally, orphans were taken in by some aunt, or distant cousin, but both families had been killed in one of the landslides that were common in the deforested parts of the mountains.

She even had fantasized about adopting Iska and Evon herself, but luckily, common sense had asserted itself by morning. Not only would it be more than obscene if the woman who had brought their mother to the gallows would now become their substitute mother, but a life on the run from Urko was much too dangerous for two little children. Zana had already lost her own baby to those dangers; it would be irresponsible to put another woman’s children at the same risk.

„Morla has agreed to take them in,“ Rogan interrupted her brooding.

„Is that a good idea?“ Zana asked, doubtful. „Halda had killed her daughter - surely she must feel resentful of the whole family...“

„You’re insulting Morla now, Alta,“ Rogan said softly. „She doted on the kids, saw them almost as her own grandchildren. She had given up hope that any man would put up with Felga’s, ah, temperament. When she got the court’s permission this morning, she looked happier than I’ve seen her ever since Felga died.“

„Oh. Alright then,“ Zana murmured. „I’m glad things have worked out for the children.“

„They also worked out nicely for your friend Levar,“ Rogan said. „We released him from jail this morning, too. I heard he’s planning to buy up Vilam’s kennel now.“

A pack of hyenas, that’s what Felga had called the kennel owners. Zana silently agreed with her.

 _„And,_ “ Rogan continued, and now he was positively smirking, „it turns out that Felga had named him as her successor for the shelter. Chairman Levar. I don’t know about you, but I find the irony delicious.“

Galen and Alan came down the stairs, packed like mules and pointedly ignoring her and Rogan. Rogan turned in his seat to watch them stumble towards the door and into the gray morning.

„You know, it’s a good idea not to linger,“ he said when he turned back to her.

He was probably right, but there were so many things about this case Zana didn’t understand; she just had to ask, or they would be haunting her for weeks to come. „Did Halda also explain why she dumped Felga’s body on Levar’s estate, only to then drag me into this whole investigation by swearing it couldn’t have been him?”

Rogan regarded her for a moment, probably wondering if he shouldn’t usher her out of the door. „Well, it seems Halda thought that if anyone deserved to be framed for Felga’s murder, it should be Olman,“ he said finally. „I remember he refused to pay the disability pension for Felga’s father, even though the man had his accident while working for him. Maybe Halda thought that framing him would make up for her killing Felga?

„But Olman was off-limits to her - she’d never have gotten past his security. So she deposited Felga’s body on Levar’s ground, because she thought he’d be easily exonerated.“

Zana raised her brows. „Because of his secret relationship with Felga?“

Rogan nodded. „Halda had some very romantic ideas about secret lovers - she was completely taken aback when I didn’t release Levar, just because he had been sleeping with Felga. I guess if we had excluded Levar from our list of suspects, Halda's next step would've been to drop hints about Olman's drug business. I mean, Felga had been on Olman's tail since forever, so her finding out about his use of the shelter to smuggle  _Blaze_ would've been a solid motive for him to finally get rid of her.“

Instead, Halda had to come up with a different tactic to get the „right“ person to the gallows, Zana mused. And an outsider promised to be easily manipulated, lacking the intimate knowledge of Sapan’s secrets. Maybe she had also caught on to Rogan's, uh, affection for Zana. It was true that Rogan had listened to her more than he would - and probably should - normally have.

It must’ve greatly distressed Halda when she had locked onto Vilam instead. „What about Vilam’s murder?“ Zana wondered.

Rogan shook his head. „It was probably her, too, we just can’t prove she was even at the racetrack that night. True, we found a wound on her shoulder, where Liquid Fire said he slashed his attacker that night - but a human can’t be called as a witness, you know that. And even if we could pin Vilam’s death on Halda, it wouldn’t change her deal. I know it irks you, Alta, but _Olman_ is the one I’m after. Halda is just a very convenient source for me now, especially after she told us where she stashed the drug for him.“

Olman had been using the shelter’s vases - the _art objects -_ to smuggle _Blaze_ to the City and its surrounding prefectures. Halda had been tweaking off some of it, but had vigorously denied that she had provided Vilam with it.

Zana wondered if Rogan would ever find out what had been going on between those two - had Vilam blackmailed Halda into giving him the drug for his own racers? Had he become too greedy, and she had felt forced to kill him off, before he could report her to the police? Had he tried to convince Halda to turn herself in, too, like Zana had urged him to do for himself?

Was Rogan even _interested_ in finding out?

„This feels so... unsatisfying,“ she murmured. „Halda is getting off easy for what she has done. She won’t even be tried for trying to kill me, or Dehni.“

„We could include her assault on you in the indictment,“ Rogan conceded. „But then you’d have to stay around, to make your statement before the court, and... I don’t think that’d be wise.“

Zana slowly raised her gaze to him, dread clutching at her chest. „Why is that?“ she whispered.

Rogan moistened his lips, and turned away to stare at the open door, where Galen hovered, clearly signaling her that everyone was just waiting for her to stop chatting with the police.

„Felga’s brother is on his way here,“ Rogan murmured, his eyes fixed on Galen, who stared back, frozen to the spot like a mouse before a snake. „You know, the one who was badgering me to join the City’s watch under Chief General Urko.“

„Well, he can’t be mad at me,“ Zana said, and cursed the slight tremble in her voice. „I helped finding his sister’s murderer.“

„True,“ Rogan said slowly. „But I’m not sure his gratitude would override his sense of duty. Nelva is under orders... as you know.“

The dizziness returned with such force that Zana had to grip the edge of the table to steady herself. For a moment, she couldn’t think, couldn’t see or hear, except for the incredibly high note ringing in her ears.

Nelva. And Rogan... „How did you know?“ she finally whispered.

„I’m good at my job,“ Rogan said tiredly, „even if I didn’t catch Halda.“

„Why aren’t you arresting me then?“

Rogan flicked her an annoyed glare. „Don’t tempt me.“

„No, I... I just don’t understand it.“ Zana nervously brushed her hands along the edge of the table. „I’m very grateful...“

„I don’t really want to think too much about it myself,“ Rogan admitted, „I don’t want to risk _my_ sense of duty suddenly kicking in. So better get going now, before I have to change my mind.“

She really didn’t want to - she had so many questions left, like how probable it was that Olman managed to wiggle out of this investigation again, and if that would spell trouble for Rogan...

But he was right - Urko had caught up to them again, and there was no time...

Zana rose, and to her surprise, felt a surge of sadness well up inside her. She forced herself to smile at Rogan. „I’ll miss Sapan, despite everything.“

Rogan smiled back, a tinge of sadness in his eyes, too. „Safe travels, Alta.“ He had the good sense to sit down again, and not bring her to the door, where Galen was still waiting, clearly impatient by now.

When they stepped out of the inn, the sky was hanging low and gray, and a cold gust made her shiver. Galen handed her her woolen scarf, and Zana gratefully wrapped herself into it, and climbed up to the passenger’s seat. She turned around to make sure both humans were safely in the back - Alan was already busy with his leather work; Peet had crawled under his bedsheets and was fast asleep, or pretending to be.

Galen flicked the lines, and Zana turned back to face the street again. A light but steady drizzle was beginning to coat the wood of the footrest, and glazed Tala’s and Ahpahchee’s croupes.

Alan’s words about Peet came back to her. Ever since he had been returned from Urko’s hands, Peet had been... troubled. Zana had no idea how to help him, but suspected that Alan would expect her to come up with a solution - after all, she had studied humans professionally, hadn’t she? No matter that her subjects had been sweet little toddlers who had never suffered under Urko.

And when, when, _when_ would they have the _time_ to take care of Peet’s wounds? With Urko hunting them up and down the prefectures, relentlessly, mercilessly...

And what about her own grief? Galen’s? Alan’s?

Rogan had wished her safe travels; but Zana was tired of traveling.

 _I’m wishing for a safe_ haven, _Rogan. And I pray that the Mothers may have mercy on us, and let us finally find one._

Behind her, Sapan vanished into a shroud of mist and rain.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay folks, I'm updating a day early because I'll be attending a funeral tomorrow and I don't know when I'll be home afterwards (and if I'd be in the mood for posting then, sigh). Also, the first chapter for the next story will be up shortly. Enjoy!

**2088**

Before self-driving cars had become mandatory, people had sometimes crashed their vehicles, Sally had once told Chris. And, as regularly as inexplicably, the other drivers would slow down, even on the opposite lanes, to get a better look at the wreck... maybe hoping to catch a glimpse of the people being squeezed to death in their mangled machine.

Chris had been horrified and disgusted by that behavior, but right now, he began to understand the strange fascination people felt in the face of catastrophe.

He replayed the simulation again.

On the screen, he could not just see the _Perdix,_ like the viewers of ANSA’s real-time feed, but also the Hasslein fields generated by their modified drive. The _Perdix’_ ring lit up as the generators sprang into action; the fields unfolded, in front of and behind the ship, deforming space...

... and tearing the probe to shreds.

_How??_

How could their engine suddenly destroy its carrier, when fourteen years ago, it had opened a perfect wormhole for the _Icarus?_

_Never fix a running system._

Except that the system _hadn’t_ been running as specified when it had hurled his father into the depths of space... or time. Chris leaned back in his seat and raked his hands through his hair. In trying to remedy their original mistake, Hasslein’s team had introduced a new one into the field equations. He had been tasked to find it and eliminate it. So he really should get down to it and call up the code, but he just couldn’t tear himself away from the silent display of utter failure playing in an endless loop on his screen.

“Screensavers are so last century!”

Helen was suddenly poking her head over his right shoulder, and Chris heaved an annoyed sigh.

Helen ignored it, as always. “And besides, shouldn’t you have started working on that code an hour ago? How long do you want to meditate on that thing?”

Chris swiveled his chair around to glare at her. “That _thing_ was worth several million dollars, and was the result of over ten years of tinkering - all to find Dad! So yeah, I _was_ meditating on this clusterfuck, and you know what I suddenly remembered during my meditation? Who inserted herself into our team and was _so eager_ to be one of the programmers!”

He still wasn’t over it. He could still recall every moment of that day, when the professor had introduced her to the team: the child prodigy who had won some physics contest... and his own surprise at that - he hadn’t known there were contests for that. The professor had never told him, and Chris had always been too busy with studying, and writing simulations in the lab, to even notice...

And Lennie’s smug smile. That he remembered best.

Right now, her face was contorting in enraged disbelief. “What? Are you saying it’s my fault that the probe went kaboom? You gotta be kidding me! I’m only an intern, every _breath_ I take is chaperoned! And besides, ‘several million dollars’ is totally exaggerated.”

“You could’ve slipped any number of mistakes past Leo,” Chris said stubbornly. “He only has eyes for your butt, not for your script!”

“Oh _please!”_ Helen flipped her hair back. She had their mother’s dark, straight hair, but Alan Virdon’s striking blue eyes, and if she’d been a normal teenager, instead of burying herself in an ANSA lab, she’d have been beleaguered by suitors.

Hell, if _he’d_ been a normal older brother, he’d be busy batting them away with a stick. For a moment, Chris became acutely aware how sick that whole situation was.

_We’re both freaks. Thanks, Dad._

No, that... that wasn’t fair. It hadn’t been Dad’s fault. And they were trying... _he_ was trying to bring Dad back, to return things to normal.

 _Helen_ was just meddling, like she’d always done, ever since he had caught her balancing on his desk, trying to catch his spaceship models that had been dangling from the ceiling.

“Maybe it’s not us,” Helen interrupted his brooding. “Maybe something’s just utterly wrong with the whole, the whole...” she gestured wildly, “maybe something’s _fundamentally wrong_ with those equations, you know? Ever thought about _that?”_

“That’s a brilliant idea, Einstein, go and tell the professor about it,” Chris snapped. “Maybe he’ll rethink his decision to let a child play with his million-dollar equipment!”

“I’m as old as you were when he recruited you!” Helen retorted.

“But I wasn’t half as cocky,” Chris growled. “You should keep your mouth shut and not assume you’re smarter than the professor. You’ve got loads to learn before you can join the conversation.”

“He’s not God!” Helen said, clearly exasperated. “Because if he was, he wouldn’t have lost a ship with three people on board in the first place!”

Before Chris could react to that blasphemy, she continued. “Something _was_ wrong about those numbers, but it wasn’t my programming. Sometimes I think something with the basic axioms is wrong, but I don’t know what...”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Chris muttered. She was too calm all of a sudden, too serious. “Stop nagging.”

He turned away from her, killing the simulation loop with an impatient swipe. He’d get to the bottom of this. And the next probe would succeed. There would be no more setbacks. No more delays.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he heard Helen whisper behind him. “Like what happened to Dad...”

He pretended not to hear her, wishing she’d go away already.

The professor couldn’t be wrong. He _couldn’t._ There _was_ a way to find his father, to bring him back, to make things _right_ again.

Suddenly, the old yearning was back, clawing at his heart, choking his breath.

He called up the simulation again.

 


End file.
